


Finally

by kafrickinboom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Affection, Age Difference, Aggressive Katsuki Yuuri, Angst, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Dates, Blow Jobs, Crocodile Gena, Deconstructed Bolognese, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Language, Fatalism, First Dates, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Happy Birthday Yuri Plisetsky, Hipster food, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecurity, Intimacy, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kissing, La La Land spoilers, M/M, Making Out, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Morning Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Polyamory, Poor Yura, Rated T until later chapters, Shovel Talk, Smut, Surprises, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10047533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: Finally.It was the first of March, aka Yuri Plisetsky’s 16th birthday, aka the day he could finally say he was legal, aka the day he could finally attempt to make his move on not one, but two men he'd had his eye on for months now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So, this is my first chaptered fic, and I've got a lot of ideas I'll be working through in this one, but I can't promise a set schedule. I'll update as the words come. 
> 
> Seeing as the age of legality in Russia is 16, I didn't mark this as Underage. If you're still uncomfortable with that, tread lightly as this fic will be mostly romance and feelings and whatnot, but there WILL be smut later!
> 
> I hope you like it!

_ Finally. _ It was the first of March, aka Yuri Plisetsky’s 16th birthday, aka the day he could finally say he was legal, aka the day he could finally attempt to make his move on not one, but  _ two _ men he'd had his eye on for months now.

_ Fucking finally _ . Yuri thought again has he pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He was pretty sure Viktor and Yuuri liked when his hair wasn't blocking his face considering the amount of times he heard something to the effect of “you're so pretty, Yura. You shouldn't hide that,” and he wasn't leaving anything to providence. He had to be on his A game if he had any chance to win them over, so he was more meticulous about the way he looked than the devil-may-care aesthetic he usually went for. He pulled on the tightest pair of black yoga pants he owned and a shirt he'd nabbed from Yuuri's bag when he wasn't looking. He didn't have anything of Viktor's, but he did have his own matching Team Russia jacket, which was close enough. He  _ did,  _ however, have that cologne Viktor lent him when he’d thought Yuri's sights were set on Otabek. He sprayed a bit on himself and thought about the overly bright, almost fake look on Viktor's face that had puzzled Yuri since that night.

_ “So you can charm that young man you've had your eye on,” Viktor had said in Russian as he gestured to Otabek behind them with an artificially saccharine smile. In the face of Yuri's confusion, completely ignoring the younger man's sputtering, incredulous protests, he continued. “It's  _ okay, _ Yura. You don’t have to pretend around me. You know that I, of all people, could not and would not judge you for wanting other men.” _

Viktor was known to be willfully dense when he’d made up his mind about something. He’d mistaken Yuri's disbelief for fear and worry, and had tried to assuage those (nonexistent) feelings with a show of support. Yuri would have appreciated the gesture more if Viktor had actually listened to his protests rather than brushing them off as per usual. He was so genuinely caring about the people around him, but Yuri swore Viktor had no clue how to actually read people. It was always a point of contention Yuri had felt toward the older man growing up, constantly feeling misunderstood by the people around him, and having Viktor assume he knew what Yuri was feeling better than Yuri himself. As he grew, he recognized the depth of compassion Viktor held, even if he couldn't seem to read the right emotions half of the time, even if he was obliviously unsubtle, even if he could steamroll right over you at the worst of times. He  _ cared _ at a level that, before him, only his grandfather and Yakov had. Yuri had never loved someone outside of a father figure before Viktor.

Thankfully, Viktor now had Yuuri to help him with the emotional translation. Yuri smiled to himself as he thought of Katsudon. After months of confusion and frustration and rage and arousal and jealousy and ignoring the constant itch to just reach out and  _ touch, _ Yuri had come to the awareness that the soft, unassuming, alluring, astonishing Yuuri was his sexual awakening. Before him, there wasn't anyone who'd really captivated him, or sent a bolt of heat through him whenever they walked through the door, or made him want to push them against the nearest wall and set his teeth to their neck.

At first it wasn't the most pleasant of realizations, especially with Viktor frequently clinging to Yuuri like a damn octopus, but after watching Yuuri's performance at the Cup of China and his subsequent kiss with Viktor, Yuri felt a maelstrom of emotion ranging from surprise to affection to envy to sorrow to anger. He'd felt that persistent itch under his skin to touch Yuuri, to feel him against Yuri’s body, bloom further to encompass Viktor. The urge to claim them both as his was as blinding as it was disconcerting. It was honestly the best and worst feeling of his life thus far. Not only did he have one impossible crush, but  _ two _ ...and on people who were in love with  _ each other _ no less.

Yuri shook his head to break apart the melancholy collecting on his chest and took a deep breath, refocusing his thoughts on making the impossible  _ possible _ as he smirked at himself in the mirror. In the months since winning the Grand Prix Final, his growth spurt finally decided to kick in. His shoulders were just a touch broader, pulling Yuuri's shirt and his team jacket a bit more snug around them, his voice a touch deeper, his hair a touch thicker  _ (everywhere) _ and he was now at equal height with Yuuri. The growing pains and the rigorous training to readjust his movements and jumps to his new height was worth it if he'd been reading the reactions in the older men correctly. He'd seen the flush high on Yuuri's cheeks and the quickly averted eyes when Yuri walked into the room, and he didn't think he'd imagined the lingering flashes of heat in Viktor's eyes whenever he came to practice. That  _ had _ to be directed at Yuri... _ right? _

Feeling the nerves begin to tighten around his throat, Yuri felt the need for physical action rising. He threw on his shoes, grabbed his duffel bag and keys, and set out for the ice rink.

There were two men he had to charm.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Yuri arrived at the rink, he was vibrating with excess energy. He felt like the anxious butterflies crawling in the pit of his stomach would climb up his throat and suffocate him if he stopped moving. The whole walk there was filled with sharp spikes of self-doubt, cutting into the confidence and excitement he'd had just less than an hour before.

He scowled at himself and squared his shoulders, entering the building. Otabek had said he had the eyes of a warrior, right? Maybe he could channel that as he was preparing to fight for what he wanted.

_ Unless they really don't want me, _ his mind helpfully supplied. He bit his lip, hesitating outside the locker room before forcefully throwing the doubt out of his mind. The looks he'd been given from both Viktor  _ and _ Yuuri couldn't just be platonic.  _ No friends look at each other like they wanted their gaze to melt the clothes off your body. _ Besides, if they rejected him, he could just try and woo them, right?

Yuri grimaced to himself. He had absolutely no basis for any relationship. He didn't know how to  _ woo _ anyone. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing at all. He'd never wanted to hold someone's hand before just to feel their warm skin against his. He'd never kissed anyone besides the world’s shortest, grossest, most platonic kiss in existence with Mila last summer (fucking Georgi and his Truth or Dare matchmaking schemes). He'd never been... _ intimate _ with anyone. Ever. The breadth of his plans included walking up to Yuuri and Viktor while they were together, preferably away from everyone else, and suggesting they all go out to a movie or something. He'd seen the longing in Katsudon's eyes whenever he saw a La La Land poster (that nerd had a thing for musicals, apparently). He didn't know what to do after that. Would they be suspicious?  _ (Probably.) _ Would they misinterpret what he was asking for?  _ (Most definitely.) _ Would they be weirded out by a barely-legal teen asking them, two comfortably  _ adult _ men, out?  _ (He hoped not.) _

Yuri entered the locker room, finding it suspiciously empty. He halfheartedly hoped no one made a big deal of his birthday. Usually, he'd be fine with Yakov's succinct, little birthday speech he made every year since Yuri started training with him, or Mila's playful jokes about how he was  _ ‘so old now!’, _ or even tolerating one of Georgi’s overly tight, overly intense hugs paired with his reminiscing of when Yuri was younger and talking about how proud he was of watching Yuri grow into the man he was becoming. It was cloyingly sappy, but that's always how Georgi was. Yuri suffered for that man, honestly.

What he didn't think he could handle was Viktor's fond, heart-shaped smile, the one that made him feel like he was too big for his body, or worse, a brotherly pat on the head and a simple birthday wish. He didn't think he could handle it from Yuuri either. That damned Katsudon had taken to letting his hair grow out a bit more, and all it did was make that ever-present itch more powerful as the fine hairs swept over Yuuri's soft cheeks. Both of them made him feel  _ so much _ all the damn time and now he was finally allowed to do something about it, but he just didn't want everyone on the team to know of his feelings yet.

He sat down heavily, putting his skates on, mentally raising the walls he'd constructed to protect himself. He thought about how Mila's teasing had grown more knowing, more sly when everyone's favorite couple walked in the room. He thought about Georgi's weird, empathetic non sequiturs when Yuri mentioned them. He thought about Yakov's deep, resigned sighs each time he had trouble holding Yuri's attention when they were on the ice. He thought about the only time Lilia had looked sad was when he caught her watching him...watching them. To this day, he wondered what his face looked like to grant him that sympathy, but he didn't want it. He didn't want any of it, and he definitely didn't want it to get worse, so until he was  _ sure _ that he wasn't delusional, that  _ maybe _ his feelings were reciprocated, he wasn't willing to give himself away.

Throwing up his best mask, he walked into the arena. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, yeah, sorry it took me so long to get this up! I've been planning my honeymoon and running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to organize everything (including my house lol). 
> 
> I know this doesn't feature a lot of Yuuri and Viktor, but don't worry, we'll get there ;)

As soon as Yuri walked into the room, he was met with loud cheers and one forceful, spinning Mila-sized tackle, which she liked to call a ‘hug.’ Grumbling loudly, he tried to disentangle himself from Mila’s octopus-like grasp, only to be met with tightened arms. He knew Mila had been working on lifts and strength training since the previous summer, but it felt as though her hold was threatening to crack a rib or two. Looking over her shoulder as he spun, he saw both Viktor and Yuuri looking on in blatant amusement.  _ God, _ he must look like such a child.

“Let me down, you hag!” He cried, alarm coloring his tone. With an unconcerned laugh, Mila finally let up, reaching out to give him the ‘little brother head rub.’ Yuri caught her by the wrist, scowling and shaking his head at her gravely. He wasn’t dealing with her shit today. He had  _ plans, _ damn it. He didn’t need her ruining them by treating him like a kid. Her lips quirked knowingly, glancing behind him before resettling on Yuri with that damned shit-eating grin, immediately setting him on edge. 

“You know, Yura, you look more handsome than usual. Is there any reason for that?” She whisper-sing-songed as she batted her eyelashes innocently tilting her head to the side to really sell the effect. Yuri heaved a longsuffering sigh, refusing to acknowledge the question with a patented glare. After a brief standstill, he rolled his eyes, attempting to pass her. He didn’t have an iota of desire to play this game with her right now. His nerves were already at an itching point. He didn’t need her teasing words to crawl under his skin and make friends with his persistent self-conscious doubts. Unfortunately, Mila Babicheva wasn’t known to drop anything, ever.

“Oh, come on, Jailbait. What’s with this...get-up?” She gestured to...all of him as she stepped in to block him from moving on.

“You know why. Stop being an ass.” He said through clenched teeth. He swore would have to visit his dentist for broken teeth if she didn’t let up soon. She ran her eyes over his face, studying him. She did that sometimes - analyzing a person to read them like an open book offered to her freely. She was probably the most perceptive person he knew when she wasn’t so focused on teasing the everloving shit out of people. He absolutely hated it.

“You’re absolutely no fun.” She said, her smirk dropping into a pout. 

“And anyway, I’m not ‘Jailbait’ anymore, so shut it with that crap.” He offered after a pause with a hint of a smile that was quickly reflected on Mila’s face.  

“What’s going on over there?” Yuri tensed, feeling as if the hair on the back of his neck stood to attention at the mere sound of Viktor’s clear, melodious voice. Heedless of the fact that he knew Mila was looking right him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He had no intention of fucking this all up because of stammering or breaking out in a sweat or a red face. That may work for Yuuri - beautiful, anxious, hot mess,  _ baka _ Yuuri - but that wasn’t going to cut it for Yuri. 

He opened his eyes and met Mila’s, softened with understanding and a touch of sympathy, before she quickly turned him around, practically frog-marching him to the rest of the group.

“Nothing! Just wishing Yura a happy birthday.” She said as she slung her arm around Yuri’s shoulders. He silently thanked every deity he could think of that she’d decided to use a modicum of tact. It was always a crapshoot with Mila. You never knew what you were going to get. Viktor’s eyes narrowed doubtfully, an adorable furrow between his brows starting to form as he opened his mouth - probably to pry further - when another set of arms practically ripped Yuri from Mila’s grasp and pulled off to the side before he had the wherewithal to pump the brakes.

“Oh, Yura! You’re growing up so quickly! I remember when you could barely reach my chest and now you’re almost at height with me!” Georgi despaired as he pulled Yuri into another crushing hug. Thankfully, he let up after a simple tap-out, but he kept Yuri in place with two strong hands clasping his shoulders. A fond, almost wistful smile graced Georgi’s lips as he continued. “I know you hate sap, but I have to tell you that I’m so proud of you, Yura. You’ve always been a force to be reckoned with, but I’ve had the privilege of watching you grow into such a well-rounded man.” 

Yuri felt his perturbed expression melt to a vaguely fond, neutral expression as he tuned out a bit. It was the same thing every year. Georgi had always been the one to lay it on thick, always recalling anecdotes of watching ‘little Yura’ grow from his perspective. He wrapped it up with a spiel about all the positive things that had changed within the last year. Georgi might be the most dramatic people Yuri knew, but he was also one of the most predictable - not that that was necessarily a bad thing. It just meant that Yuri knew exactly what to expect with him as opposed to Mila or a couple certain individuals he was adamantly  _ not _ looking at as he continued to ‘listen’ to Georgi. He tuned in again when the older man squeezed his shoulders gently, voice lowering.

“If I’m reading things right, you have feelings for them - both of them - don’t you?” He murmured, tone more serious than it had been previously. He must have read the widened, alarmed eyes and the blood draining from Yuri’s face as confirmation because he gave a short nod before continuing. “A piece of advice? You  _ must _ follow your heart even if it may end up broken in the end. If you never try, you’ll never know, and the wondering about whether it would work or not and the ifs and the ‘woulda, coulda, shouldas’ will eat at you forever. And if your heart should end up shattered, well,” he smiled ruefully, “I may know a thing or two about that. Just know that you are not alone regardless of what happens.” He shrugged with a tender smile, hands falling back to his sides before straightening. “Now. Let’s get back to the group. It appears Yakov’s ready for his birthday speech.”

Yuri grabbed Georgi’s wrist before he could turn away. At his questioning look, Yuri looked away, visibly embarrassed. “I just...thank you.” With that, he strode off to the group, missing the sunshine smile aimed at the back of his head.

“Yura! Come. I have a surprise for you.” Yako beckoned, shaking water out of his coat onto the carpeted floor, and immediately Yuri was suspicious. That old man wasn’t one for surprises. He was the type of person who gave succinct speeches about ‘another year, another blessing’ and the like, the type who put on the front of a gruff exterior because he had no other way to express his ‘soft, teddy bear interior’  _ (spasibo, Mila) _ , the type to give money as a present for literally any gift-giving holiday because he figured the people he cared for knew how better what they wanted than he would. Yuri’s suspicion colored his expression, and for once Yakov’s ever-present scowl lightened to a small smirk. This did absolutely nothing to settle Yuri’s nerves. “I stepped out for a moment and noticed it was raining, so instead of giving the usual speech, we could just sing the song for you.”

Yuri set his face to a scowl to contain his glee. Growing up without his parents around, and with his grandfather working as often as he did, there were more than a few years that he hadn’t had Crocodile Gena’s birthday song sung for him. His Dedushka tried his best to take the day off every year, but with Yuri’s ice skating fees and his own bills, he just couldn’t cut it sometimes. Yuri had grown up not expecting much on his birthday -  _ it was just another day in the year after all, _ he’d often had to tell himself. It was such a stupid, insignificant thing to be excited about, that damned song, but while he’d watched as other people’s families sing to them in various happenstances over the years, he almost never got that experience. Yuri crossed his arms and rolled his eyes for effect. 

“Really?” He said, playing up the longsuffering tone.

“Really.”

And they sang. And it was… Honestly, it was the worst song he’d ever heard in his life. It was absolutely ridiculous. He knew Viktor and Yuuri could both carry a tune pretty well, but everyone else was comparable to that of a dying animal. The timing was a little off between Yakov and Mila, and the dissonance in the melody was atrocious, but...Yuri didn’t care. He slapped a hand over his mouth to contain the laughter that was bubbling to the surface. His eyes crinkled at the corners, mouth tugging into a beaming smile behind his hand shield as they trailed over the people he considered to be the majority of his family. He would never admit how much he genuinely cared for them, but he did. He loved them all. His eyes’ journey stopped short when they reached Yuuri, startled by the almost tangible warmth directed at him. He quickly averted his eyes to Vitya only to find an approximation of his partner’s gaze snapping up from where they were trailing over Yuri’s body to meet his eyes. Yuri’s eyes widened as felt his face burn before refocusing on the rest of the group, but not before catching Viktor’s widening grin. 

And just like that, Yuri couldn’t breathe properly. He subtly cleared his throat and swallowed thickly as they finished the song, laughing through the tightness pressing in.  _ Shit. _ He shook his head affectionately, attempting to shake the sudden buildup of nerves and desire out of his mind, rolling his eyes again as he started a slow, sarcastic clap.

“That was...something else. Truly. Thank you.” He said with a laugh that edged along this side of forced. He could practically smell the faint concern wafting off of just about everyone before him, so he redoubled his efforts to shake it off before smirking. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get on the ice.” He ignored both Mila’s and Georgi’s expressions as they fell to bafflement. He avoided both Yuuri and Viktor, observing their solicitude from his peripherals. He just kept his gaze steady on Yakov before taking off his skate guards and stepping onto the ice.

He needed to regroup. He couldn’t do that with everyone watching him so closely. Sure, he could feel as they watched him on the ice as well, but there were expressions he could hide in his spins and jumps. He could attribute his frustration (at himself), anger (also at himself), even the fleeting crazed smiles that liked to catch him off-guard to music he was skating to in his head, or to...well, literally anything he could think of. He wasn’t skilled at making shit up on the spot, he wasn’t a good liar, and he wasn’t ready for everyone to suss out what his problem was.

  
He just needed to clear his head. He just needed to strategize a bit before following through with anything regarding Katsudon and Vitya. He just needed to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently, Crocodile Gena's [birthday song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUBNtYixTSs) is really popular among Russians? I looked up birthday songs, and that was kind of the only one I could find. It talks about how it's raining on his birthday, so...I figured it'd be perfect for what I was envisioning for Yura's birthday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI: I'm pretty sure all my chapters are going to be short, little things until things get more complicated with our favorite guys. ;)

As he glided on the ice, Yuri couldn’t help feeling like a fucking idiot. He’d had so much practice keeping himself cool, calm and collected (save for the times he let his anger get the best of him) around them for  _ months _ and the day he’s finally able to make a move, he starts losing his shit? 

_ This is fucking ridiculous, _ he scowled to himself. He threw himself into his practice, resulting in over-rotated jumps and wobbly landings, narrowly missing eating the ice more than a few times. It didn’t help that in his rush to give himself space, he hadn’t taken off his Team Russia jacket, which restricted his movements more than if he’d had the presence of mind to take the damned thing off. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of anger and annoyance rushing over him. It was his birthday. Things were going well...kind of? His plans weren’t ruined. If anything, Viktor and Yuuri’s obvious affection should strengthen his resolve to just take the bull by the horns and  _ do it. _ Shouldn’t he be more relaxed?

He sighed as he thought about his day so far. Mila and Georgi were significantly more helpful in bolstering his confidence than he’d expected. He got what he was anticipating - the teasing from Mila and the nostalgic memory trip with Georgi were a staple even for Yuri’s everyday life - but their own shows of support were a pleasant surprise. He knew they cared for him, but sometimes it got lost in the drama and sibling-like bullshit they gave each other all the time. He would never in his life admit that to Mila (he could just imagine the endless ribbing now), but knowing he had support and that they didn’t judge him for even  _ trying _ ...it was enough to lighten his spirit. 

Even Yakov with his unexpectedly goofy performance for a birthday gift gave his step a bit more bounce. It was one hell of a change of pace from the rote speech he gave for each of his mentees’ birthdays. He was a bit disappointed that Lilia hadn’t shown up, but he knew she was in Khabarovsk visiting her brother, so it wasn’t like he expected to her show up. What was dragging him down was his own insecurities and doubts clouding his previously felt confidence.

He was pretty sure Viktor’s just been fucking with him since he left the locker room judging by the way Yuri felt the trail the older man’s eyes made down his body like it was a physical thing multiple times. He had to have known what he was doing to Yuri, right? He let his own eyes fall shut as he tried to push the feeling out of his mind. Yuuri at least had the decency to keep his eyes at face-level, though even just the crimson hue to his cheeks was enough to fluster Yuri. He blindly swept over the ice for a moment, letting his body run on autopilot as he tried to recalibrate himself. 

He couldn’t focus on his (admittedly feeble) plan if his mind was centered on the way Vitya’s sharp smirk or Yuuri’s softly curved lips made his body feel like it was electrified. God, if he could just bathe in that energized feeling, he swore he’d never need sleep again. At the moment, it felt like all that energy was building up with no outlet to release it. He concentrated on breathing deeply - inhaling until he hit his max capacity and exhaling the tension gathered in his muscles, shaking his shoulders out to clear the lingering tightness collected there.

Just as he opened his eyes again, he felt the air shift around him, startling as Yuuri sailed past him only to pivot and face him only a few feet away, immediately skating backwards to keep the lackadaisical momentum going.

“Are you okay, Yura?” the older man worriedly asked. 

“I’m fine. Why?” Yuri pursed his lips against the sudden desire to act on the impulse to just ask Yuuri out (and Vitya by proxy) and get it over with. As much as he wanted to discharge the staticity, he couldn’t face only half of the duo he wanted to date. One, that would be disrespectful to Vitya, and two, as much as the idea of taking the reins and facing them both terrified him, he wasn’t one to make others do the hard work for him. He wasn’t going to just let Yuuri do all the work of getting Viktor on board by being the middleman. 

“You kind of rushed off there after the song. Was it really that bad?” Katsudon chuckled as Yuri refocused, eyes falling to the middle ground, his hand reaching to rub at the back of his neck - an obvious sign that he was nervous. Yuri’s eyes zeroed in on the action, smirking to himself. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one affected by the other’s proximity, though he could only hope it was because he actually  _ was _ reading Katsudon correctly and not just mistaking Yuuri’s general anxiety for genuine attraction.

Yuri tilted his head to the side and smiled softly, rolling his eyes. “No, Katsudon. It wasn’t ‘really that bad.’” He said, fingers flexing around the air quotes. “I just needed to clear my head. Figure out what I’m doing later today.” He (forced himself to) nonchalantly wave off Yuuri’s worry, and watched as Yuuri smiled bemusedly. Yuri was so distracted by the dimpling around the very corners of his mouth that he didn’t hear the  _ kshh kshh _ of another set of blades on the ice until they were right behind him.

“I figured you were coming out with us tonight, Kitten.” Viktor’s breath startled him as it danced over his ear along with his soft, mellifluous voice. He jerked forward, tripping over the toe pick of his skate catching in the ice, preparing to accidentally take Yuuri down with him only to be caught by two strong arms followed by the addition of two strong hands. Katsudon’s arms held Yuri fast against his chest as Viktor’s hands settled on Yuri’s slender hips. His mind froze as he felt those fingers grip further as he steadied himself. He swallowed the excess as his mouth watered at the feeling of being held so securely. 

He flushed and forced himself to snap out of it. Now, especially in the absolute tightest pair of pants he owned, settled against Yuuri as he tried to find his footing, in the middle of the ice rink, in front of not only Yuuri  _ and _ Viktor, but also  _ everyone else too, _ was  _ not _ the time to get hard. He felt too hot, like he’d combust if either of them gripped him any tighter. He settled himself back on his own feet, pulling himself out of their grip. He skated out of the cozy, little bubble they’d created, shaking himself out of it, before rounding on Viktor.

“What the actual  _ fuck-” _ he started, only to be cut off with a finger to his lips. His voice cut short as he faintly gasped.

“I apologize, Yura. I thought you’d heard me approach. I wasn’t that quiet, was I?” Viktor said around a guileless smile. Yuri knew it had to be a farce. Viktor was one of the most genuinely caring, loving, affable people Yuri knew, but he was also one of the most cunning if given proper motive. “Or was it that you were so distracted by my handsome, little piglet,” he paused briefly to apologetically kiss the back of Yuuri’s hand after an angry spill of Japanese, “that nothing else could catch your attention?”

Yuri’s eyes widened as he sputtered, all of the rosy flush that had collected high in his cheeks rushing out of his face. He felt the choking sensation claw suddenly back to his throat. This was  _ not _ the way things were supposed to go. He had a fucking  _ plan, _ and it did  _ not _ involve being so out in the open for this particular discussion. Being surrounded by not only Team Russia but also the younger skaters that had started to filter in, he felt as if he was caught red-handed, trapped like a deer in headlights, and being mocked for it. He knew Viktor was about as subtle as a flying brick, but  _ wow. _ He watched as Vitya’s lips fell from his teasing smirk along with his finger that hadn’t moved since he shined a spotlight on Yuri’s obvious attraction, and that was enough for Yuri today. 

He backed up on his skates, frowning into the middle distance. Viktor attempted to reach out to him, but Yuri stopped him with a sharp shake of his head. He intended on turning and booking it for the exit when gentler fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was such a loose hold, one he could easily break, one that gave him the choice to stay or flee, but he felt rooted as his eyes hesitantly trailed up the arm and to the face of the man holding him in place. Yuuri looked at him with not a little distress. Katsudon glanced between Yuri and Viktor  _ (was that a glare aimed at his fiancé?) _ before he started skating toward the exit with Yuri in tow.  
  
“I think we three need to talk.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! For those who have been here from the beginning, you probably know I was gone for over a week for my honeymoon, and then it took me a while to get this chapter together. It's significantly longer than the previous chapters. I'm pretty happy with it.

Being pulled off the ice, lead by Katsudon and trailed by Vitya, was probably one of the more embarrassing experiences he’d had in his home rink. Yuri’s fierce glare met the eyes of more than a handful of people who slowed their momentum to curiously side-eye Yuuri’s delicate grasp on Yuri’s wrist, or the way Viktor was casually followed just a step behind them. Of all the times he’d imagined what would happen on his birthday, this wasn’t the way he’d seen things going. He wanted to rewind this entire day and start from scratch so he could avoid this godawful mortification. The fucking wolf whistle from Mila didn’t help matters.

The only thing that was a balm to his discomfiture was that they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of just almost everyone that mattered to him. Yuri wanted so badly to just hightail it out of there and call it a day, but he couldn’t just run away after all this... _ pining. _ Like Georgi said, even if his heart ends up broken, he will have tried and that would just have to be enough for him. 

Yuri clenched his jaw and swallowed past the lump building in his throat as they stepped off the ice. He gently removed his wrist from Yuuri’s hold and threw on his skate guards, absently following as he tried to beat back the encroaching fatalism. 

He could just see it unfold in his head. Yuuri and Viktor taking him somewhere more private to let him down as kindly as they could. Viktor explaining he was just playing around with those weird looks and the forward closeness. Yuuri looking at him in pure confusion as Yuri lays out what he’d observed and confirming that he was, in fact, wrong and that it  _ was _ just misread signals. The risk of ending the conversation with his heart a ruin. Yuri having to lick his wounds in private while maintaining his unaffected front in public.  _ Again. _

Yuri’s fists clenched as he came back to focus in one of the event rooms the rink had for birthday parties or conferences. He heard the door close, the  _ shk _ of the lock being thrown as he silently sat down, hesitantly facing the causes of his pending heartbreak. Yuuri gingerly sat in a seat catty-corner to Yuri while Viktor settled himself standing against the door, fingertips of one hand at his lips as he gazed at Yuri contemplatively, blocking the only exit from the room (unless Yuri gained the inclination to throw himself from one of the windows, which was unlikely). 

After a beat of silence and almost tangible tension, it came as a surprise to no one that Vitya broke the silence.

“You know, Yura, I’ve known you for quite a long time now. You would think I’d know all of your faces by now, but it appears that’s no longer true. What is this expression?” He gestured to Yuri’s face. “You look like you’re hiding yourself away, but you still look...sad? Scared? I don’t understand what’s happened to have that aimed at us. Is it because I pointed out your attraction to Yuuri?” He said guilelessly.

“Viktor!” Yuuri cut in reproachfully, gesturing for Viktor to shut the hell up as Yuri reconsidered his stance on flinging himself out of the window. Viktor’s brows furrowed like he had no clue what was wrong and Yuri had to cross his arms to physically holding himself back from exploding, feeling the betrayal and his mortification sour and twist into something like hurt and anger.  _ He’s still mocking me. _ Yuri couldn’t stop himself from bowling over Yuuri’s gentle “I’m sorry, Yura-”

“You know,  _ Vitya,” _ he spat, “I knew you could be an insufferable asshole, but I never would have thought you’d actually stoop this fucking low.” 

Viktor reared back in confusion and indignation.  _ “What _ are you talking about?”

Yuri stood up so quickly, his chair tipped backward, and advanced on Viktor, getting in his face. He could hardly breathe being that close to someone he loved, someone who seemed perfectly content to hurt him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuuri rise in alarm, standing ready to intervene if necessary. “You know what the fuck I’m talking about. Making fun of me for my interest in Katsudon. Touching me the way you do. Mocking me all the time with your-your eye-fucking!”

Viktor’s eyes sharpened, scrutinizing Yuri’s furious, red face for an uncomfortably long moment before cutting to Yuuri. They had one of those patented silent conversations all couples seemed to have before he tilted back to Yuri, a small smile gracing his lips. Yuri felt a sense of whiplash as Viktor lanced through his rage with a gentle curve of his lips, his blue, blue,  _ blue _ eyes warming from their usual icy indifference to warm pools Yuri easily fell into. Yuri tried to be subtle as he gulped. He didn’t think he’d succeeded judging by the widening of Vitya’s grin.

“Yura, I believe there’s been some miscommunication.” Viktor said cheerfully, and Yuuri scoffed, jolting Yuri from staring at Vitya. Yuri blatantly ignored the heat licking up his face as he turned his attention to Yuuri.

“Some miscommunication? There hasn’t been  _ any _ communication.” Yuuri said, walking toward them with a roll of his eyes before turning to Yuri, a bright flush overtaking his face. “What Viktor means is that none of us seem to know what the other wants. Well,” he wrung his hands, tone growing unsteady, “Viktor and I know what we want. We just...we don’t know what you want-  _ if _ you want. Anything. From us. With us. I-I think you do. You’re wearing my shirt under that jacket. And those pants...” He trailed off, eyes dropping to the clothing in question before guiltily darting back to Yuri’s face before turning away, biting his lip. Yuri unconsciously licked his lips, his blush matching that on Yuuri’s face.

_ “And _ you’re wearing that cologne I gave you. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed that. Your hair is also up and out of your face, which is rare. You know both of us have always loved seeing your face without obstruction.” Viktor said with a smirk and a raised brow, the perfect image of nonchalance as he traced a finger over a rogue lock of Yuri’s hair, both he and Yuuri expectantly waited for a response.

Yuri was pretty sure he was dreaming. Maybe he hit his head during one of those falls on the ice earlier. He figured he would have had to fight for this. Maybe the panic he’d felt encroaching after the whole group sang to him succeeded in swallowing him whole and he was actually still lying on the ground passed out.  _ Wait.  _

The  _ whole _ group sang that song,  _ including _ Yuuri who had only spoken most basic, rudimentary Russian until that morning. He knew the Japanese man was learning - he kind of had to if he was going to live in Russian full-time. Still, his knowledge was limited to little more than very basic conversation, ordering food and counting. Yuri looked back at Yuuri in disbelief. “How the hell did you know the words to the birthday song?”

After a pause, Viktor brightly laughed. Embarrassment spread over Yuuri’s face a moment before he planted his elbow in his fiancé’s side. 

“I told you he’d notice.” Viktor murmured slyly to Yuuri before redirecting the conversation toward Yuri. “Yuuri thought it'd be a nice surprise for you later on after I told him we rarely do much on our birthdays, but Yakov beat him to it. Sure, his Russian is still a bit...rusty, but still, he learned the song for you.” he smiled, rubbing at his ribs as Yuuri shrugged sheepishly as if it was no big deal, as of the effort wasn't worth noting. 

Yuri knew how hard it was learning not only a whole new language, but one with a whole new kind of alphabet (the  _ third _ for Yuuri to have to learn outside Japanese kanji/katakana/hiragana and the Roman alphabet) and a new way of speaking altogether. He was well aware that Russian is one of the harder languages to take on as a secondary - or rather, tertiary. He was also aware that Yuuri had been busy since the conclusion of the GPF. Between training and practice and preparing for the 4CC and making time to talk or Skype his family and friends and Vitya and the exhaustion that comes with being friends with Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich and fans in general, the fact that he’d squeezed the effort to learn a silly, old song for the express purpose of surprising Yuri...it meant a lot more than the Katsudon seemed to realize. 

Without thought, Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s hand, placing a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.”

Yuri wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Katsudon’s eyes widen to such a degree since that Thai skater friend of his called out his and Vitya’s engagement. As smug as Yuri was feeling that he’d surprised the older man so well, he quickly dropped Yuuri's hand, turning away. His feelings were a fucking mess, caught between these floaty and leaden feelings. The fact that both Yuuri and Vitya seemed to  _ actually _ return at least a part of his feelings was surreal in and of itself, and Yuri couldn’t help but feel suspicious of how easily it was to fall into the syrupy feeling of vindication and validation and reciprocal fondness. Hell, they were  _ engaged. _ They already had enough in each other. That was obvious to anyone who knew them. What could they possibly want from him? It wasn’t as if they could have  _ two _ fiances someday.

_ Jesus... Jumping  _ too _ fucking far, _ he cringed at himself.

Yuri wasn’t exactly known for being overtly self-conscious and insecure. Sure, he was prone to explosive anger and cutting remarks when he was pissed off, but anything more tender than rage, he kept buried as far below as he possibly could. He’d known for a while now what he was good at  _ doing, _ and he was confident in his skill as an athlete, an artist, someone who wasn’t half bad in the kitchen, etc. Things he could control by putting in work to improve. He wasn’t so great at interpersonal shit. 

He’d grown quite a lot emotionally since the Onsen on Ice competition. He was secure in his standing with the only real family he had. The walls he constructed to keep his emotions in check and to hide as much of the vulnerable feelings as he could also did a fantastic job at keeping a lot of potential friendships or romantic possibilities out. It wasn’t as if he was interested in romantic options before Vitya and Yuuri anyway, but even associations with people outside of his Dedushka or connections deeper than anything worth the title of ‘acquaintance’ were rare. He wasn’t sure how to deal with his feelings when he first realized what the hell was going on with him, and now that it looked like those feelings would be met positively, easily, without question, he couldn’t help but feel wary of it. 

He kept his back to them both as he tried to reign it in. He wasn’t going to fucking cry his frustration out in front of them. He  _ wasn’t. _ A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, turning him back around. Yuri kept his head down, scowling to the ground. Soft fingertips delicately brushed under his chin like he was something precious, like something that merited careful handling, tilting his face to meet Yuuri’s.

“Yura, you know we’re not just messing with you, right?” He said quietly. Viktor tilted his head toward Yuri, all traces of playfulness wiped from his face.

Yuri froze. Was he that fucking transparent?  _ God, this is exhausting, _ he sighed to himself. His patience with himself was wearing thin. He just wanted to shake off the clinging doubts and say ‘yes’ so he could breathe easily again, so that’s what the hell he was going to do. He squared his shoulders, meeting Yuuri’s and Viktor’s eyes in turn in a show of false confidence.

“I know that you wouldn’t intentionally mess with me.” Yuri raised a hand at the flash of indignation that swept over Viktor’s face and Yuuri’s pursed lips. “I know what  _ I _ want. You say you both know what you want. I’m not sure what we’re talking about is the same thing. I want...more.” Yuri grimaced at his lack of eloquence, blushing as he forced himself to be open. For once. “I want what you already have. I want the-the romance.” He cringed at the shift in their expressions, averting his eyes as he continued. “God, this is hard… I want to-to hold your fucking hands, and I want to take you on dates, and I want to do all the shit you see in those disgusting, sappy romance movies I  _ know _ you love,” he said with a finger jabbed toward Viktor, fleetingly meeting his warm eyes. “I just...I guess I just want to say you’re mine. Both of you. I just don’t know if that option is even on the table. I had this whole plan to pull you aside, ask you out today - maybe see that stupid musical Katsudon wants to see - but this whole day has gone so far off-script that I don’t even know what the hell to think or do or say, and-.”

He was cut off with hands sliding into place along the sides of his neck, tipping his head up to meet the slightest graze of lips. Yuri was pretty sure his heart skipped  _ two _ beats as he stared wide-eyed up back at the softest expression he’d ever seen on Viktor’s face. After a moment, he turned to Yuuri to gauge his reaction only to be met with a blinding smile. 

_ “God, _ how can you not see how much I want you? How much  _ we _ want you?” Viktor said as Yuri felt slender fingers trace over his own. 

“It seems what we  _ are _ talking about the same thing.” Yuuri noted warmly. His eyes flickered to Viktor, a smirk tugging at his lips as he resettled on Yuri. “So...we’re ‘aside’ now. Is that plan to ask us on a date still in motion? Because I’d  _ really _ like to say yes.”  
  
Yuri laughed breathlessly, vacillating his awe between them. He cleared his throat, gently removing one of Viktor’s hands so he could more easily turn to them both, a deep flush rising all the way to his ears as he smiled. “What are you guys doing tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did them justice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hi! I'm SOOO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out (but it's also only part 1/3 of their date?? Whoops). Between having a rough mental health month and BOTH of my kids' birthdays lying a week apart in April, it was hard to get this out. But! I'm back, and part 2/3 should be up sometime within the next week or so.

Yuri was veritably losing his shit. 

Since probably the best conversation he’s had in recent history and agreeing on a time and place for his upcoming  _ date _ (he allowed himself the hysterical smile every time the word reappeared in his mind), he ran home for a quick shower with a promise to meet Viktor and Yuuri at their local cinema to see that damned movie. He couldn’t believe he was  _ actually _ going to sit through two hours of singing, dancing and inevitable gag-worthy sap. Whatever. It was all going to be worth it if he got to see Yuuri’s wondrous, incandescent smile.

_ God, now  _ I’m _ a sap, _ he cringed to himself. 

As the water washed the tension from his body, the adrenaline had worn off with it, and the weight, the  _ importance _ of what had happened quickly swept through him. Cue the subsequent freak out that had him rifling through all of his clothes he owned for the third time, turning his once relatively clean room into something resembling that of a landfill. He tried to come up with the perfect outfit - something enticing enough to pull them even further over that still-present invisible line, but nothing that screamed that that's what he was trying to do. He really didn’t need to see Viktor’s knowing expression if he came off as desperate. Damn it, he shouldn't even feel this insistent need to impress them, especially after knowing them all this time, but the feeling was there and he couldn't just ignore it or it would become a persistent itch under his skin. 

He paced around the small clearing left on his floor clad only in his underwear with his hair carefully braided, trying to settle his nerves.  _ They already want me. That was made  _ very _ clear at the rink...and for weeks now, really. _ He scowled to himself, trying to get a fucking grip. He took a deep, calming breath, trying to shake the irritation he felt for getting himself so worked up. He didn’t need his sour mood affecting his date before it even happened. He started the day full of confidence with a readiness to finally get his men, and he was going to get that feeling back, damn it. 

He checked his phone for the time, cursing. In his panic, he lost too much time. He had less than half an hour to get there or he’d probably make them think he was second-guessing things. He quickly decided on a simple skinny jeans with artfully placed distressing and a tight, plum button down shirt that complemented his vibrant, green eyes. Casual, but not sloppy. He pursed his lips, contemplative, before smirking at himself in the mirror, an approximation of this morning’s once-over. He looked  _ good. _

He threw on his shoes, grabbed his keys and wallet and hailed a cab.

\---

“There you are! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.” Yuuri said in a rush, the relief obvious in his every line. He quickly sent a text, probably to the currently missing Viktor. Yuri's brows furrowed. 

“Ah, yeah. Traffic was shit. Or more like the driver was shit. He made  _ two _ wrong turns on the way here.  _ Two _ .” He said furiously, kicking at the ground in frustration. He looked away, feeling the flush tint his fair skin. “Anyway, I'd never, you know, I'd never leave you hanging like that on purpose.” He felt the flush deepen before he caught the responding smile in his periphery. That shy, little smile never failed to work as a pin, deflating Yuri's ballooned anger and irritation with minimal effort. He cleared his throat, shaking off the last of the lingering tension. He was  _ here. _ No point in being pissed about shit he couldn't change. “Where's Vitya?”

“He's getting the tickets. I think he got so impatient standing here waiting, he just needed an excuse to  _ do _ something. Don't tell him I said so, but I think he's nervous.” Yuuri laughed fondly, winking at Yuri conspiratorially, squeezing Yuri's heart in the best way. 

He could honestly (to himself, of course) say he loved these men, and he loved how they loved each other despite the vehemence every time he’d denied his feelings in the past. He loved how obvious it was to everyone around them that they were together. He loved the easy affection and the banter and the silliness. He loved the warmth and excitement in their voices that occasionally climbed to pure, unashamed heat when talking about the other. He loved how enraptured they both were with each other. He just hoped that someday the depth of their feelings would someday expand to include him too. He bit his lip as he observed Yuuri’s profile, thinking about how honestly terrifying his feelings were. 

He felt like his feelings expanded from his heart to fit tight against his skin, an almost dizzying sense of fullness, of affection and adoration that pervaded him entirely, and he had no idea how to handle it. He was brought out of his introspection by two long arms, slipping around him, a nose nuzzling into the side of Yuri’s flush-burned ear. He glared at Yuuri’s laughing eyes as he looked on, fingers pressed to his smiling lips.   
  
“Yuri! You’re here!” Vitya sighed happily, the warmth of his body pressed flush against Yuri, a direct threat of making his knees give out, taking him down with them. He  _ really _ didn’t need that embarrassment what with all the people around, throwing raised brows and questioning glances their way. He fit a scowl to his face. 

“Get off of me, old man!” He squirmed out of the hold, eyes dancing over the groups of people standing outside the theater. He avoided Viktor’s stricken face, stalking to the theater. “Now come on. I don’t want to miss the previews because you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” His heart stuttered as he thought of the many other ways he wanted Viktor (and Yuuri) to decidedly  _ not _ keep their hands to themselves. 

After reaching the door with the sound of silence trailing after him all the while, he turned around, shifting his feet at sight Yuuri comforting Viktor, arm in arm as they slowly made their way to him. Yuri had a tendency to stomp on people’s sore spots when he felt nervous or out of his depth. He forgot how sensitive Viktor was about his advanced age. Any mention of his big forehead or how close he was to 30 or anything even alluding to him getting old was something you avoided mentioning lest you want to really bruise Viktor’s ego. It also didn’t help that Yuri flatout rejected Vitya’s trademark PDA. Yuri scolded himself for ruining this date before it fucking started.  _ Didn’t I just give myself a pep talk about not fucking up before leaving my apartment? _ He heaved a sigh.

“Come on, Vitya. I was only messing with you, and...I didn’t mean to push you away like that.” He said with an apologetic grimace. He held out a hesitant hand, and Viktor huffed as he laced his fingers with Yuri’s. 

“I sometimes forget you’re not so open with your affections.” He replied, a genuine smile creeping back on his face. Yuri was helpless against his own responding smile, eyes bouncing off Yuuri’s fond expression before finally entering the building.

They quickly got popcorn and candy (which Yuri insisted on paying for since the other two had covered his ticket, and  _ he _ was supposed to be taking  _ them _ on this date regardless of their protestations that it was his birthday), found their theater and settled in, Yuri between his two older men. He shifted, focusing hard on the previews to avoid both Yuuri’s and Viktor’s eyes. He already felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the force of his nerves. He didn’t want them to see that behind his eyes. He just wanted to sit there and suffer through the movie while enjoying the sweep of Vitya’s thumb over the back of his hand and the warmth radiating from Yuuri on his other side.

The movie started up, and he really tried to get into it, but the storyline was so far from his taste that he couldn’t focus. By twenty minutes in, his attention sharpened to a hyper awareness of Yuuri’s hand dipping into the popcorn bucket on Yuri’s lap, of Viktor’s leg inching closer to rub against his own, of every single contact point of his and Viktor’s interlaced fingers, of every time Yuuri endearingly smiled, inaccurately humming along to the new music as his head tilted back and forth toward his, bobbing to the music. Time flew by in a blur of lights, more decent choreography than he’d expected, admittedly beautiful music and and these two beautiful men beside him as he actively attempted to unwind the bunching in his muscles. 

“Relaaax, Yura.” He whispered into Yuri’s ear, squeezing his hand gently as he traced the tip of his nose over the shell, and it only served to make Yuri tense further, breath caught in his chest. That damned man with his hawk eyes...he must have noticed Yuri’s struggle to settle into something more loose than the rigid line of his straightened spine. 

“I’m trying,” was all he said as he angled his head toward Viktor, looking up through his lashes. The movie once again devolved into nothing more than background noise. Yuri felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, breathing kicking back up and speeding as Viktor rested his forehead against Yuri’s, a mimicry of what Yuri had seen Viktor and Yuuri do not only on the television screen but also in person more times than he could count. He had always felt equally envious and tenderhearted looking on, and it’d never failed to taint whatever mood Yuri was in with a heavy dose of melancholy. Now, he was part of one of these intimate moments and Yuri felt like he was electric. He didn’t know how long they’d sat there like that. Viktor seemed just as bored with the movie, just as content as he to bask in their little bubble. He closed his eyes for a moment or twenty, only flying back to reality when a tight, warm hand gripped his left knee.

He was beginning to regret tying his hair back so fully, left open and vulnerable, unable to hide in his usual refuge behind his hair. He was almost sure that the heat radiating from his cheeks could get him through a solid Russian winter. He sat back, grimacing as he forced himself away from the intimacy with Vitya, shifting uncomfortably at the wide grin spread on the older man’s face. He felt like he was riding along this damned balance beam, unsure whether he should let himself fall to the left where he could easily pull himself together in his tight, little box of what he was used to, what was comfortable, or to the right where he couldn’t see the bottom, couldn’t see where he was going or the end goal, a path where he had to trust that two sets of strong, capable hands would catch and guide him along the way.

He exhaled shakily as he focused on the way Yuuri’s hand gripped just inward enough on his lower thigh to dance along the line of indecency. Soft fingers subtly caressed him, but when Yuri looked at the man attached to that bold hand, Yuuri was smiling, completely entranced by the movie. It was as if he was fucking with Yuri without conscious thought. 

Yuri’s brows furrowed as he watched the Japanese man’s content profile in the low, flickering light of the theater. He looked like he was honestly about to cry. Yuri settled his free hand over Yuuri’s without thought, lacing his fingers in the spaces between the older man’s. He turned to watch a nice, little montage of the main guy and girl’s life together - genuinely happy, getting pregnant, having a baby, going on a date night - the last notes of their love song dwindling to something more deconstructed and sad before panning in close to the pianist - the main guy, camera switching focus to show the main girl sitting with some other man where the main guy had previously sat. Yuuri gasped beside him, all traces of his smile melting into something more sorrowful. They watched as the main girl and her husband left, watched as she paused before the exit, sharing a tragic, little smile with the main guy, her previous love, before she left. The end.

Yuri looked at Yuuri and swallowed thickly, noting the fresh tears spilling down his cheek. Katsudon, as far as Yuri could tell, was a true romantic under the many layers of anxiety and diffidence. When it came to any sort of fictional work, be it movie, song or book, he seemed to always stray toward the type with the quintessential happy ending where love conquers all, for lovers to experience the hardships and tragedy and whatever bad shit that may come, but to still make it in the end, to be made stronger because of it. This didn’t exactly fit his modus operandi. He freed his hand from Vitya’s, gently wiping the tear track in some attempt to comfort Yuuri. 

Yuuri turned those big, tearful, cinnamon-chocolate eyes to meet Yuri’s in the low light illuminating from the credits, and Yuri wanted to absorb every bit of heartache Yuuri was feeling if only to  _ make it better. _ He looked back in sympathy, out of his depth on what to do. He did the only thing he could think of, pulling the older man in to kiss him on the forehead, a gesture of comfort and reassurance that Viktor (and he, if it all worked out) wouldn’t let Yuuri’s love story turn sour.

“Come on, let’s go eat,” Viktor murmured from behind Yuri, and gracefully slipped past them, holding his hand out for his fiance to take with a sad, little smile on his face. Yuuri took it gratefully, standing and pulling Yuri along with him.  
  
Yuri disentangled his fingers from Yuuri’s, intending to back off. Viktor was the obvious choice for comfort in...just about every way, but especially when Yuuri was upset. Yuri figured that as much as he wished he could help. He wished he was helpful or useful in terms of soothing people, but much to his chagrin, he was well aware of the fact that he just...wasn’t. Leave it to Katsudon to completely ignore that fact, grabbing his hand tighter the moment his hand left Yuuri’s. Yuri bit his lip on a smile, following along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient with me! x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. My kids' birthday party is now over, so I had time to get this chapter done. I hope you guys like Part 2 of their date!

Walking together, hand in hand, the four blocks to whatever restaurant Vitya and Katsudon had picked was fucking bizarre. Yuri couldn’t help feeling like he wasn’t  _ meant _ to be so easily affectionate with them so quickly, like he hadn’t earned it or something stupid like that, and...like everyone’s eyes were judging them. It didn’t stop him from eating up every pinpoint of contact he had with Yuuri’s strong, steady grip.

Still, he couldn’t help the rush of relief he’d felt when they turned into the doorway of some very obviously hipster restaurant he wasn’t even aware existed. Yuri raised a brow at the sheer amount of art, succulent plants and exposed red brickwork along the walls. He eyed the wooden board plates at other patrons’ tables. Vaguely familiar folk music played - The Head and the Heart, maybe, or something like it - played overhead, a low background sound that added to the whole hipster atmosphere. The old-fashioned lightbulbs threw the whole restaurant into a warm, amber glow that made his breath catch when Viktor turned a high-watt smile toward him expectantly. He looked so beautiful all the damned time, but the soft, golden light suffused over his fine features took it to a whole other level. 

“What do you think?” Viktor asked, a touch of nerves in the lines of his face - maybe Katsudon was right. Maybe he  _ was _ nervous.

“It’s...definitely interesting. The food smells pretty good. I like the music and the art, and you look amazing in this light, so…” he said, petering off as he realized what the hell he just blurted out. Viktor’s eyes widened along with his smile, and...was that a blush? Yuuri looked between him and Vitya fondly, detaching himself from both his and Viktor’s hands to speak with someone at the counter or something. Yuri avoided Vitya’s eyes as he watched Katsudon open his mouth only to be cut off by the bubbly hostess with the biggest eyes, biggest hair and maybe even the biggest smile (second only to Yuuri’s Thai friend) Yuri had ever seen.

“Hi there! Welcome to Handlebar! Do you have a reservation? If not, the wait time will be about 45 minutes.” A quirky grin and a deeply American accent coloring her tone. She wore vintage-looking cateye glasses with a plaid button-up shirt tucked into a black circle skirt. She was practically made for this place, Yuri thought. He looked around amusedly. He’d never seen something so textbook hipster in his life. 

“Uh, yes. I have a reservation, that is. Under Katsuki. Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.” Katsudon said, flush deepening with each little flub, and Yuri’s eyes snapped to him, surprised. He figured this weird choice was Viktor’s doing. He eyed them both quizzically, and followed until they were seated at one of the few window tables available. Yuri furrowed his brows at the small table with its uncomfortable-looking wooden seats, sitting across from them tentatively. He bit back a grimace as he realized they were, indeed, extremely uncomfortable. Yuuri mimicked Viktor’s previous nervous expression as the hostess handed them menus (on fucking clipboards Jesus  _ Christ), _ and Yuri huffed a charmed, little laugh. They obviously thought this one through. Even if Yuri didn’t even really understand the process of making  _ this _ their choice, the effort warmed him all the same.

He smiled behind the menu, hiding his softer self from the curious eyes trying to burn holes through it. He might be slowly accepting that these two idiots would inevitably be the cause of him turning into a gross, sappy mush ball, but if he could maintain his tougher image for a while longer, that would be fucking great. He took a deep breath, shaking his head at himself as he tried to parse through the menu, wondering what the hell a ‘deconstructed creme brulee’ looked like or what made a ‘foraged greens with locally bottled balsamic vinaigrette’ any better than a normal salad.

Two fingers lowered his menu from the top, and he was met with Yuuri’s nervous, smiling eyes. “Why are you hiding? Did I make a bad call? Do you hate it? We can go-”

“No. I don’t hate it. Everything is fine. I’m just trying to figure out what to eat.” He cut Katsudon off lest he ramble himself into a fit. He scowled as he studied Yuuri’s dubious expression, sighing. “I’m still kind of just...waiting for this to implode, okay?” He said in a rush, avoiding both of the older men’s bewildered faces, glowering and biting down his lip hard as he refocused on the menu. His brain-to-mouth filter was absolute shit lately due to being so overwhelmed by the entire day. He was just throwing shit out there that he wasn’t prepared to have thrown. He was  _ this _ close to gluing his mouth shut for the rest of the night.

His scowl deepened as he noticed the prices. He might have won a decent little chunk of money by winning the Grand Prix Final, but after paying a bit toward his grandfather’s medical debt and a few months’ rent and bills, he was trying to spend a bit more frugally. He guessed he could eat some more basic shit until more money came in. 

“Hi! I’m Pyotr. I’ll be your server tonight.” Yuri jumped as the waiter boisterously cut through his turmoil, effectively saving Yuri from elaborating for a moment. He and his dates quickly ordered their drinks, and Viktor ordered a few appetizers as Yuri adamantly avoided his searching gaze. Yuri pursed his lips, trying to keep the worry from bleeding into his expression. They sat in an awkward silence for maybe thirty seconds before Vitya couldn’t take it anymore. He laid a gentle hand on Yuri, pulling him once out of the revery he’d settled into. 

“What did you mean, Yura? Why would it all implode? We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” He said, mildly sliding his hand out from under Viktor’s, and ignored the pang in his heart in the face of Vitya’s falling face. He clenched his jaw, attempting to glare a hole through the table. He kind of felt like kicking his own ass. Things were going so damned well, and he was fucking it up. Again. He felt the anger well up in him again and he choked back on the furious tears threatening to make an appearance.  _ Jesus Christ. _

He rested his elbow on the table, face in his hand as he tried to pull himself together. It was just one damned meal. One damned  _ pricey _ meal, but he’d be okay. It wouldn’t break the bank or anything, especially with the sponsorships and potential minor endorsement offers that had flooded in after he won gold. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, berating himself for being such an asshole, even  _ now. _

“I’m sorry. I’m just...overwhelmed,” he admitted tersely behind the safety of his closed eyes. “I keep waiting for the both of you to realize that you don’t need a third person in your relationship.” He heard Yuuri sputter unintelligibly in protest, and Viktor’s soft  _ ‘what?’ _ Yuri could feel his flesh melting under his fingers as he swallowed down the mortification. 

Soft fingers gently ran over the knuckles of his other hand which was clenched tight atop the table. Viktor’s smooth voice danced around the soft chords of that damned acoustic hipster music. “Yura, you have to know we wouldn’t do that to you. Did you think we just decided this on a whim?” 

He exhaled slowly, looking up at the two men who had occupied his every daydream and fantasy for well over a year, who had been there for him in ways he hadn’t really expected them to, who wouldn’t fuck with him without being sure they wanted it too. He cursed himself. He ran his tongue over his teeth in annoyance, flipping his hand over to hold onto Vitya’s. He sat up from the slump he’d fallen into, glancing apologetically between the other men.

“I-” he started, but was cut off by the arrival and presentation of their beverages and appetizers. He stared at chips and guacamole, the Asian-style lettuce wraps (which...what does that even mean? Japanese? Korean? Chinese? Thai? Yuri needed answers), the parmesan-roasted chickpeas, and the quintessential hipster-y mason jars filled with their drinks. What the hell kind of restaurant was this? Thankfully, the server had enough tact not to stare at them even though the tension was almost palpable. He just dropped the food off, told them their dinners would be out shortly after collecting their orders, and left.  Yuri shook his head, eyes darting around to confirm that no one was eavesdropping as he continued. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not trying to ruin everything,” he said angrily. “I’m not… I don’t know what to do with this. I had this whole plan t-to ask you out, but I don’t think I ever expected you to actually say yes.” 

His face flushed crimson, keeping his eyes on them as he watched Vitya and Katsudon have another one of those telepathic couple’s conversations. 

He needed to stop hiding every damn time he talked to them, or this would never work. He needed to stop throwing up walls left and right. He needed to stop being so fucking  _ scared. _ He wasn’t even this scared when he attempted his first quad salchow or when the reality of his emancipation set in or even when winning gold was on the line.  _ Jesus. _ He had to get a grip on himself or  _ he _ would be the direct cause of his anticipated implosion, and their relationship hadn’t even had time to take off yet. He would just have to stop overthinking things. Stop assuming shit about Yuuri and Viktor. Stop expecting shit to turn south. Stop expecting an impending heartbreak.

“You’re not ruining everything. If anything, you’re letting us know that we’re doing something wrong.” Yuuri said kindly, and Yuri about lost his shit.

“What the  _ hell _ are you talking about, Katsudon?  _ You _ haven’t done anything. You’ve been- You’re  _ perfect. _ It’s just...it’s me, okay, so shut the hell up with that bullshit.” He hissed, leaning aggressively forward, and he  _ knew _ he wasn’t imagining Yuuri’s pupil’s blowing out. He licked his lips as he catalogued his Katsudon’s other reactions to his proximity...or maybe it was his anger. The tightening of his grip on his fork. The pink rising high on his cheeks. The way he sat up just a touch straighter. Yuri didn’t know how to react to any of that, so he took a deep pull of his lemonade, ignoring the way that itch to touch the older man spread through him like wildfire. He cleared his throat, reaching for a lettuce wrap. “Seriously. It’s not you. And it’s not Vitya. It’s me.” With that, he shoved a bite in, completely forgetting for a moment that he should probably be trying to  _ not _ look like a complete pig. He shrugged to himself. What’s done was done.

“Yura, do I have to remind you that  _ we _ asked  _ you _ out?” Viktor said with a tilt of his head. “If anything,  _ we _ should worry about  _ you _ not wanting  _ us.” _

Yuri looked at the silver-haired man as if he’d grown a second head before laughing, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’s not even a possibility. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“And just how long have you been thinking about this?” Viktor said before taking a sip of his wine, holding the stemless glass as if he was the image of nonchalance. 

Yuri froze, watching as both men’s eyes bore into his own. He subtly swallowed, but refused to hide again regardless of how badly he wanted to. He met Yuuri’s eyes. “I’ve known I wanted you since I saw you perform at the Grand Prix Finale... _ last _ year.” Ignoring the faint pop as Katsudon’s lips as dropped open just a touch, he turned his sights to Vitya. “I’ve known I wanted you s-since I knew what my...what my cock was for.” He tilted his chin up, shifting uncomfortably as he actively disregarded the feeling of wanting to die from embarrassment crawling up his throat, an approximation of bravado and confidence he couldn’t actually feel. 

The tension Yuri had felt earlier was nothing in comparison to this. This skyrocketed to a whole other level, a whole other ballgame. It was sexually charged and restless and fit to send waves of heat and electricity through him. His breath picked up as Vitya’s eyes turned contemplative, predatory. 

Viktor sat stock still with hands clenched so tight, Yuri was almost afraid the wine glass would shatter. He dragged his eyes over Yuri and it felt like a physical thing. Yuuri’s jaw dropped even further, breathless, a tease of teeth and tongue visible as his wide eyes seemed to follow the same trail Vitya had made. Yuri found himself mildly embarrassed and insanely intrigued by how much of an effect he had on them.

Apparently Pyotr had the world’s best (or maybe worst) timing. After clearing out the empty plates, two of those acacia boards were set before Viktor and Yuuri, and a bowl made of the same wood before him. 

Yuri still couldn’t get over how ridiculous this place was. As soon as the waiter left, he couldn’t help the bark of laughter in the face of Yuuri’s bewilderment. Deconstructed bolognese, indeed. On his date’s board sat three mason jars - a large one packed full of cooked noodles, a medium-sized one filled to the brim with bolognese sauce, and a small one about halfway full of cheese. There was no bowl to mix it in, and the realization and subsequent irritation on the older man’s face along with the whiplash Yuri was feeling after such charged emotions was enough to send him into a fit. 

He covered his face with both hands again to contain the edge of hysteria, tears collecting at the outer corners of his eyes until they damped his hands. Soon enough, Viktor’s musical laughter joined in, soon followed by Yuuri’s giggling. The three of them laughed at the absurdity of this place, breaking the tension yet again. Yuri wiped the tears off his face, sharing an amused grin with his dates. 

He felt so much lighter than he had just moments ago. He shook his head, gleefully watching as Yuuri sighed, upturning the whole jar of noodles on his board, jumping to contain the mess as it spread further than the edges of his plate. Yuri absently played with his Indian butter chicken, resting his cheek in the other hand as he watched Viktor murmuring to his fiance about tactics or some shit, attempting to help create some sort of walls with his hands (which...wouldn’t allow for him to eat at the same time as them, but Yuri was reveling a bit too much in the schadenfreude to say anything). The bolognese sauce came next and Yuri bit his lip against the amusement and sympathy as Yuuri looked between the noodles and his sauce in alarm. When the alarm turned into something akin to panic, eyes dancing over the others in the restaurant in trepidation, Yuri took pity on his date.

“Just dip the noodles into the sauce.” He said, as if this should be obvious to the older men. He raised a brow at them when they didn’t immediately move. Yuri rolled his eyes, stealing Katsudon’s cheese, quickly spreading it over the noodles. “You have no bowl, and judging by the mess the noodles made, the sauce will only be a fucking disaster. I mean, just look at this shit.” He plucked the fork from Yuuri’s idle fingers, motioning to Katsudon’s and Vitya’s current predicament. He collected a bit of the noodles, leaned forward, careful not to spill his own food, to gently dip it into the jar still in Yuuri’s frozen hand and held the bite to the older man’s lips. 

Yuuri licked his lips, eyes wide as he opened his mouth around the fork, lips slowly dragging back over it in a way that wiped the self-satisfied look off of Yuri’s face. His attention was broken as Viktor cleared his throat, head tilted coyly, showing off the line of his biteable neck.

“Is it my turn to be fed now? I  _ am _ a bit indisposed at the moment,” he purred, and Yuri’s eyes flew wide at the tone as he tried to keep the rest of his expression neutral. He smiled weakly, bringing his hands back to himself only to realize he still had Yuuri’s fork. He gave it back to Katsudon, who threw a shy smile back at him and  _ for God’s sake. _ This whole back-and-forth between charged tension and relaxed ease was going to do his head in. Still, Vitya  _ did _ have a point. As hilarious as it was that the eldest man was indisposed because he was making himself into a bowl for Yuuri, it was also sweet...in an moronic kind of way. 

“You want a bite of this?” He asked, motioning to his own food, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a smirk that fucking sharp on Vitya’s face before.

“Oh, I very much do…” He trailed off, eyes piercing as his mouth dropped open expectantly. Yuri wanted to melt into the ground as it clicked. His throat went dry and he was pretty sure his heart just did a quad flip in his chest. He sputtered and hated himself for it. He couldn’t keep up this whole tough thing he had going for him if he choked every time Viktor leered at him.

He shakily lifted a bite to his previous mentor’s mouth and choked even more as Viktor’s soft, pink tongue traced the bottom of the fork, eyes holding his before fluttering shut as he savored the butter sauce. Yuri gripped the side of the table when Viktor finally took the bite into his mouth, a lascivious, little moan filling the sudden silence. 

Yuri knew Vitya had about zero shame. He’d grown up with the man. He  _ knew. _ And yet, he still found himself shocked by how lewd he looked, head tilted back just so, eyes still shut as he chewed his bite. Yuri swallowed thickly as he watched Viktor do the same, and he couldn’t stop the image of Viktor swallowing him down from entering his mind’s eye. A muttered  _ ‘fuck’ _ escaped his lips without permission and Vitya’s eyes snapped open to meet his.

“Thank you, Yura. That was  _ delectable,” _ he smirked. Yuri didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss him or slap him. Such was his relationship with Viktor. He glanced at Yuuri and was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one affected. He cleared his throat, offering another bite, but Vitya denied it with a smile. “I’m okay with waiting sometimes.” He said with a wink.

Yuri took a deep, calming breath, digging into his food. It was as if they all silently decided to veer into safer topics of conversation while they ate. 

They all talked about skating for a bit - the previous competitions, the outfits (apparently Yuri’s free skate outfit was ‘borderline lewd’ to Yuuri, and apparently, the older man fucking loved it), what they wanted to implement into their routines, what they needed to perfect. They talked about their pseudo family that was the Russian team, and even about their real families. Viktor became subdued with that line of conversation - family wasn’t something he liked to speak about often, and neither did Yuri, so they mainly focused on Yuuri’s. They talked about the movie, and Yuri and Vitya fondly listened as Yuuri ranted about how perfect Mia and Sebastian would have been if they had just made it work. They talked about what Yuuri would have done to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart, hand coming up to grip Viktor’s as Yuri’s gaze grew a touch wooden, choking down the irrational jealousy until Yuuri reached across to rest his hand on Yuri’s as well. Yuri hesitantly opened up a fraction about his feelings for them, heart pounding as twin smiles reflected his own. They talked about the restaurant and Yuri found out that Yuuri had figured he’d like it because Yuri ‘seemed adventurous and like [he] liked to try new things’ and he squeezed the older man’s hand, thanking him for his consideration. 

In no time, Yuri and Katsudon finished their food and patiently waited for Viktor to finish his yakitori. They denied going for dessert when Pyotr came to collect their plates. He soon returned with their check, and Yuuri picked it up before Yuri could even glance at it. He pulled out his wallet only to be waved away.

“I’m, at the very least, paying half of that.” He frowned. 

“Mmm...no.” Yuuri responded with a smile and a little roll of his eyes. “Like Viktor said,  _ we _ asked  _ you _ out. And besides, it’s your birthday! We’re definitely  _ not _ going to make you pay for your birthday dinner.”

“Ugh,” Yuri grumped, but it wasn’t as if Katsudon didn’t have a point. Still, he felt weird when people outright paid for him. “Thank you. I’ll foot the bill next time.”

He missed the private smiles on his dates’ faces as they grabbed their coats, paid at the counter and stepped into the brisk night air. God, he didn’t want this night to end. Even with the rollercoaster that was himself and his bullshit emotions, he had a great time. He liked how he felt with Viktor and Yuuri at his sides, and he liked the way his heart felt too big for his chest whenever they smiled at him. He wanted more, but there was no real way for him to say any of that without laying out all of his cards. He wasn’t ready for that kind of assertion on his part just yet.

They walked for a bit, Yuri absent-mindedly following as he focused on the spaces between himself and the others and all the ways he wanted to close them. When he came out of his contemplation, they were back at the theater. His brows furrowed until he realized their path was headed toward Vitya’s car. He sucked his lips inward, biting down for a moment, hyperfocused on how to smoothly end this date.

As they reached the car, he tucked a loosened bit of hair behind his ear as he cleared his throat. “I had a great time tonight.” He blushed furiously, shifting back and forth as he swallowed. “I- We should… We should do this again. Sometime. If you want.” He bit back the grimace as he stumbled over his words like he was  _ Katusdon. _ What the fuck.

Viktor froze in the middle of unlocking the car. Yuuri looked sheepish. Yuri was confused.

“Well, the night doesn’t have to end now, does it?” Vitya said, turning around to lean against the car. 

Yuri stared at the older man for a moment. “What did you have in mind?”

“We have a surprise for you back at our place. If you want it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. We can always do this another time.” Viktor said, his tone reassuring. Yuri regarded both him and Yuuri suspiciously.

“...What is it?”

Yuuri snorted. “That wouldn’t be much of a surprise if we told you.” He looked up at Yuri through his lashes and as apprehensive as Yuri was of the unknown, he wasn’t about to say  _ no. _ He was excited. He was just thinking about how he wanted to spend more time with him. This was perfect, even if not knowing what was in store for him was completely unknown. In a way, it was a thrill to jump without knowing what was at the bottom. He noticed the slight shake of nerves settled in the older man’s tone, and it echoed through him. Still, he stood tall, feigning confidence.  
  
“Alright. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I never know when my post dates are going to be (sorry about that - I'm never good with deadlines). I'll try to get it out asap! x


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE TINIEST OF CHAPTERS. A bridge to chapter 9.

The drive to Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment was unintentionally awkward. Yuuri wanted to be polite or something so now Yuri sat in the passenger seat, blushing as Viktor held his hand. Viktor was chatting about superfluous stuff with Yuuri while Yuri looked out the window, wondering what the surprise could possibly be.

Of course his mind went immediately to sex. He wouldn't at all be mad if that was what was in store for them tonight, even if the thought had him vibrating out of his skin. He shifted in his seat as he thought about seeing that much bared skin sliding against his, those eyes blown wide with heat, low groans and panting and nails biting into his flesh, strong hands pulling his hair back to expose his throat.  _ Fuck. _ He needed to get a grip on himself before he embarrassed himself. If tonight held anything like  _ that, _ he’d be a very happy man. 

“I should probably be honest with you, Yura,” Viktor brought him out of his daydream with a hesitant tone and a tight squeeze of his intertwined hand. “Your surprise is actually tomorrow, so we were going to have you spend the night if that’s alright with you.”   
  
“We probably should have started with that.” Yuuri sheepishly added. 

“I...what? Are you serious? I didn’t bring extra clothes or anything! You could have told me sooner so I could be prepared.” Yuri bit out, unable to hide his irritation.

“You could always borrow some of my clothes?” Yuuri offered tentatively. “We’re about the same size now, so…”

“Mmm. I guess that’ll work,” he acquiesced, turning back toward the window long enough to hide the deepening flush before throwing a smirk behind him. “Soon enough, I’ll be taller than you and this won’t even be an option.” 

“Then you can borrow my clothes.” Vitya smiled. “They might be a bit long on you, but it would just look more adorable on you. Yuuri likes to steal my shirts and let the sleeves cover his hands. He always looks so soft.” He added fondly, meeting Yuuri’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Yuri chuckled at the thought of a soft Yuuri sitting in the middle of the bed, sleeves hiding his hands as he settled into a pile of blankets and pillows. Everything about Yuuri was soft, from his warm, brown eyes to the subtle curves in his figure to even his toes (don’t ask how Yuri knew his feet had a perfect, little arch - he didn’t want to talk about it). Yuri swore the man was comprised of cotton candy, talc and suede. He looked back at Yuuri, giving him a soft smile to match the theme, and he didn’t resist reflecting it. He bit his lip against the sudden urge to hysterically laugh at today’s luck, looking back up at the sky through the passing streetlights. 

He felt like everything good that had happened today was building up pressure inside of him. He felt like dancing or singing or yelling his good fortune from the rooftops or something - all of that cliche shit he’d always rolled his eyes at. He could practically hear the swelling of romantic music just thinking about how happy he felt. He had the irrational urge to say ‘fuck it’ and climb into the backseat with Yuuri and kissing him senseless. He wanted to slip his already-taken hand between Viktor’s legs just to see what he’d do. He wanted to melt into them, lose himself to this feeling he’d never felt before. 

He settled for bouncing his leg like a madman.

He closed his eyes, resting back against the headrest, letting himself get carried away in his imagination. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later that Yuri was pulled from the land between awake and sleeping by a hand carding through his hair. He hummed into the feeling, pushing into it. He heard a low laugh from his left before those fingers tightened just a touch, drawing a gasp as his eyes flew open. Immediately, his eyes locked on Viktor’s bright smile, like he’d just found out something fascinating. Yuri licked his lips, quietly whimpering as Vitya did it  _ again. _

“We’re here, Yura,” he purred. “Let’s get you inside and get you to bed.”

And with that, Yuri was wide awake. He’d probably only meant sleeping, but with the way Yuri’s mind had been occupied with less than pure thoughts, he wasn’t so sure. Not with the way Viktor seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes off of him as they walked to his building’s door.

“There you are. Take you long to wake him up?” Yuuri teased from beside the waiting elevator. Viktor hummed an affirmative before whispering something in his ear. Judging by the raised brows and the glance at Yuri’s hair, he knew Vitya had let Yuuri in on the little tidbit he’d learned in the car. It was a losing battle with the flush on his cheeks at this point. Damn his fair skin.

The second the elevator closed and the button for their floor pushed, his back hit the wall and familiar long fingers were in his hair, Vitya’s lips a hair’s breadth away. The air in Yuri’s lungs whooshed out of him and his blood rushed to his cock, leaving him dizzy.

“Can I kiss you? I would have waited until we were in the apartment, bu-”

Yuri was impatient. He was well over waiting for more than that tiny graze back at the rink. He pushed up into Viktor’s space, connecting his lips to the older man’s in a way that tore a groan from him.  _ Fuck, _ this was infinitely better than that lifeless kiss with Mila last year.  _ (Shit, don’t think about  _ her _ , what the hell.) _ This was like a dam breaking, only instead of water rushing to fill him, it was heat and electricity and a tingling sensation running through him. He slid his tongue out tentatively, testing the waters and Viktor met it head on without any hesitation, pushing him further into the wall as strong hips ground into his own.

Just when the grip in his hair began tightening, they were interrupted with a cleared throat. Yuuri was watching them breathlessly as he unsubtly shifted his legs, the line of his erection catching Yuri’s attention. He swallowed thickly, wanting to reach out just as Yuuri motioned for them to get off the elevator. It was only then that both Yuri and Viktor had noticed they’d stopped at all.

Viktor slowly backed away like he wanted to do nothing less than remove himself from Yuri’s body. The knowledge that Yuri could do  _ that, _ to have such an effect on both of these men, was intoxicating. He pushed past them both excitedly.

“Let’s get inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered writing this and the next chapter as one big thing, but no. I figured I'd make chapter 9 a beast of its own. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the chapter we've all been waiting for! (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yuri bounced on the heels of his feet as he impatiently waited for someone to unlock the damn door. He bit his lip, watching as Yuuri sauntered up to him (a bit awkwardly, he might add. Being smooth with an erection was a feat). Yuri swallowed, looking over Yuuri’s shoulder to a smirking Vitya. His lips were kiss-bitten and the high points of his cheeks were suffused with a rosy flush and Yuri wanted to fucking  _ wreck _ him. 

He was pulled from studying the older man by a strong hand gripping into his hair, tilting him down ever so slightly to meet Yuuri’s lips before his back even hit the wall. He shouted in surprise as teeth bit down on his lower lip followed by a warm tongue to sooth the sting. Yuri’s eyes fluttered shut as Yuuri’s other hand cradled the side of his jaw like he was something precious, cherished, like he’d shatter if handled too roughly - an ironic counterpoint to the sharp tugging at his scalp and the blunt assault on his lips. He clutched tightly to Yuuri’s sides as  _ he _ was in the process of being fucking wrecked and  _ what the hell? _

“Mmm,” Viktor hummed, casually sidling up to them. “Yura, did you know Yuuri’s a biter? We both have seen the way you’ve watched us when you think we wouldn’t notice, so maybe you already knew that.” Yuri gasped against Yuuri’s lips, embarrassed to have been caught but thrilled that they'd actually  _ liked _ it, and Katsudon used it as an advantage to slip his tongue against Yuri’s own. “We always  _ loved _ when your eyes were trained on us. I think our Yuuri has a bit of ask exhibitionist streak. He always made a concerted effort to put on a show for you.” His time dipped to a rumble. “He was also much more...aggressive when you were around.” 

Yuri cracked his eyes open, cutting to Vitya’s lascivious smirk just as Yuuri groaned against his lips. His hands unconsciously pulled the older man closer and it was like something snapped. Suddenly he was pressed further into the wall, a mimicry of the elevator adventure. It was probably going to leave a bruise, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Suddenly Yuuri’s hands were  _ everywhere _ and Yuri was so fucking hot for this, he was sure he was going to melt into the floor below him. Yuuri used the grip in his hair to guide his head to the side, the long line of his neck exposed a moment before those teeth set to mark a line from ear to shoulder. His other hand trailed to Yuri's ass, firmly palming before using the leverage to grind their cocks together.

Yuri was going to lose his fucking mind. They hadn’t even entered the apartment yet and he was pretty sure he was going to come in his pants soon, especially if Yuuri didn’t stop rubbing himself against him like he was fucking Eros incarnate...again. Viktor wasn’t helping a damn thing by leaning against the door, unabashedly watching them, shamelessly palming his own cock through his pants. 

_ “Fffffuuuck, _ if you don’t stop, this is going to be over before it even begins,” he said in a rush, gently pushing at Yuuri’s shoulders until he unlatched from his neck. He honestly hoped there’d be a mark later. He bit his lip, stifling a moan at the idea that there would be actual physical proof of this later. Something sensitive to press against later when this was all over and he was back home using the memories of this night to get himself off. Yuuri’s eyes were still focused on his neck (maybe Katsudon had a thing for necks that he didn’t know about?) when he pulled away. 

Yuri closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall, taking a moment to catch his breath. He’d thought about both of these men’s lips in all of their various shapes for ages - smiling, sliding against each other’s, laughing, pursed, even frowning - but having them set to his own was overwhelming. He swallowed thickly as he recentered, willing himself to step away from the precipice of orgasm. When he reopened his eyes, Yuuri was giving him the most adoring smile he’d ever had directed his way. It was so different from the lecherous look he'd had only a moment ago that Yuri's breath caught, mirroring it.  _ God, _ tonight was going to be a good night.

He threw an embarrassed smile Vitya’s way, catching his own affectionate smile and  _ Christ, _ they were embarrassing. All three of them. Yuri couldn’t help the faint grimace from creeping on his face as he thought about how fucking  _ cheesy _ they all were together. He shook his head, rolling his eyes with a little smile before pushing Viktor out of the way, letting himself in. 

He quickly took off his shoes and put them on the mat sitting beside the door. One thing Viktor had adopted from Yuuri was the whole ‘no shoes in the house’ thing that was common in Japan. Yuri silently promised he would also adopt that habit if it made Yuuri more comfortable. He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack before turning, suddenly feeling significantly more vulnerable as he watched Yuuri and Viktor dance their familiar dance around one another, trading kisses as they helped each other out of their coats. It didn’t even feel as charged as it had in the outer hall. This was a bit deeper, like sticky sweet devotion and a simple way to show their care for one another. They took their time - long enough for all three of them to cool down. Yuri toyed with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves, shifting his weight with bitten lips as he waited for some sort of cue as to how to proceed.

He watched with wide eyes as Viktor walked right up to him, sliding his hands up the sides of his neck, thumbs gently caressing the hinges of his jaw as placed a gentle peck on his lips. This felt almost more intimate than melting together in the elevator. This was a kiss borne solely of affection.

“There  _ is _ a little surprise for you tonight, but it’s not the ‘Big Surprise’ we have for you tomorrow,” Vitya murmured, hugging Yuri tight, a quick hand sweeping down over his ass before motioning for him to follow along to the kitchen. He stared at the man as he sat on one of the stools at the island, curious as to what they had for him now.

Yuri watched as Viktor rifled around the counter space.

“Before our date, Vitya and I decided we wanted to do a little something special for you.” Yuuri smiled, shrugging when Yuri turned his inquisitive gaze on him.

Viktor laid a lidded platter in front of him a moment before whipping off the cover. Yuri’s eyes rounded as he was taken aback by the sheer amount of  _ ponchiki _ before him. Some of them were just the plain powdered sugar-covered variety. Some were sloppily filled with plum sauce, some with strawberry jam, and some with - was that sweet red bean paste? He looked at the men standing nervously before him with wide, expectant smiles, touched and a bit bewildered. He couldn’t remember the last time he even had  _ ponchiki, _ and Vitya still remembered it was his favorite. What the hell.

“I’m assuming this is your doing?” He teased Yuuri playfully, grabbing one of the  _ anko ponchiki, _ and Katsudon blushed. God, that man was fucking adorable. He took a healthy bite and froze.

“I...yes. I know how much you love katsudon pirozhki, and thought maybe I’d try my hand at blending cultures…?” He dropped off hesitantly as Yuri make a sound of approval. Holy  _ shit. _ He swallowed, immediately going in for another bite. Yuuri visibly brightened as he finished it off in no time. Yuri cleared his throat, embarrassed by how fucking piggish he’d been basically the whole night.

“You worry too much. That was fucking delicious.” He exclaimed.

“Eat as many as you want, but don’t make yourself sick. We still have training in a couple of days, and you want to make sure you don’t make yourself sick later tonight, don't you?” Viktor asked, his tone smoldering, and Yuri was immediately on board with whatever the older man was suggesting. 

“I, ah…” Katsudon cut in, flushing. “I do want to make sure that everything is okay though. With us. And you.  _ Together.” _

Yuri’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s just- We all know we want each other, and I think we’re getting a pretty clear understanding of what we want in this relationship, but...are you  _ sure _ you’d want to come to bed with us tonight?” Yuuri asked boldly, visibly refusing to acknowledge the ruddy tint coloring his face. “I know you’re of age now, but, correct me if I’m wrong, this would be your first time, and we’re both much older than you…”

Yuri blushed, looking around like he was being Punk’d. Viktor was no fucking help. He looked as intense as Yuuri did. “I’m not exactly seeing the problem here.”

Yuuri pursed his lips. “I just don’t want you to regret losing your virginity to us.”

“What the  _ actual _ hell. I’m definitely  _ not _ going to regret a damn thing we do tonight. I-I trust you. Both of you. Maybe we don’t have to actually fuck tonight?” He scowled as the heat in his cheeks intensified. “We can do other stuff until I’m more comfortable with the idea, I guess, but  _ fuck. _ I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now and I  _ know _ what I want. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t give a shit about your ages. If anything, it makes it hotter.” He blurted, ignoring the twin gasps from his older lovers (hopefully), immediately slapping a hand over his mouth and cursing his faulty filter. He heaved a sigh. “Honestly, if  _ you _ aren’t comfortable with me being so young, I...well, I can’t say I won’t be disappointed, but I’d understand. The whole consent thing goes both ways, you know? If you think you’ll regret it, I’d rather just...not.” He looked off to the side, his good mood beginning to wane. 

He felt nauseous even thinking about the possibility that they’d regret this. Any of this. He frowned down at his second  _ ponchiki, _ picking at it as a distraction from whatever the fuck Yuuri and Viktor’s eyes were doing at each other. Their little mental conversations were as endearing as they were frustrating. That only lasted for a few seconds before the dessert was plucked from his hands and he was spun on the stool until he faced Viktor. He watched with wide eyes and a thundering heart as the older man lifted Yuri’s hand in his, wrapping delicate lips around his fingers. 

The blood that had temporarily returned to his body rushed back to his cock as Vitya cleaned each digit, his swirling tongue paying particular attention to the pads, and  _ Jesus fuck. _ Yuri gaped as Viktor looked down at him with hooded eyes. He startled when he felt his other hand lifted by Yuuri who copied Viktor’s motions. Yuri felt his toes curl at the teasing sensation, shifting to try and get any pressure on his awakening cock.

Once they seemed content that his fingers were pristine, both Viktor and Yuuri grabbed his hands and led him down the hall and into their bedroom. Yuri felt like he was going to combust if he didn’t get his  _ and _ their clothes off soon. His hands itched to touch. As soon as the door was closed (some illusion of privacy? Yuri wasn’t sure), he gently pulled his hands from their hold, running his hands down both of their chests.  _ Fuck. _ He didn’t even know where to start.

His gazed volleyed between both men, unsure of where or who to start with. Thankfully, Yuuri picked up the ball he dropped, pulling him in for another searing kiss. Yuri moaned into it, wasting no time before he clumsily began unbuttoning Yuuri’s shirt. Viktor slipped in behind him, mouthing at the side of Yuri’s neck as he reached around the front, expertly popping buttons as he came by them. Yuri helplessly whimpered as nails gently followed the strip of newly exposed skin.

“So you like the fact that we’re older, Yura?” Viktor purred into his skin, and Yuri shivered, nodding emphatically. “What about it appeals to you?”

He was  _ still _ working on Yuuri’s bottom buttons when the older man rocked his hips into Yuri’s, setting his hips to grind back against the hard line of Viktor’s cock, distracting him from answering for a moment. He felt dizzy with the sensation, and  _ fuck, _ he wanted more. 

“I just… I-I don’t know why I like that you’re both older than me. Maybe it’s the e-experience-” he bit off with a hiss as Vitya ground his cock into his ass. “I like that you, ah, you’re experienced and th-that I haven’t done anything at all.” He blushed, embarrassed by his own confession, but with the way all four hands on him tightened, they seemed to share at least a few of his proclivities. In a rush of confidence, he added, “I want you to teach me how to please you. Both of you,” earning him a pair of desperate moans.

He lost his temper with Yuuri’s goddamn buttons, ripping the shirt to the sides. Everything stopped the moment the sound of them hitting the floor echoed through the room.

A rumbling laugh built up behind him as Yuuri looked at him in wonder, like Yuri losing his cool was doing it for him. He hurriedly pulled the shirt off of the older man’s shoulders, ripping himself from the enthusiastic kiss that Yuuri had begun pressing into his lips with a frustrated curse as they caught on Yuuri’s wrists.  _ Fucking cufflinks. _ He bit his lip, embarrassed as watched Yuuri undo them behind his back, a gentle, understanding smirk gracing his lips. 

Viktor took the pause in their actions as an opportunity to turn Yuri around, hands immediately pulling his hair back just hard enough to sting and Yuri’s eyes rolled with an accompanying whimper at the sensation. Vitya’s lips slid over his, an approximation of that previous hesitant-turned-hot kiss in the elevator. Thankfully Viktor had only worn a soft, black boat neck sweater, and Yuri yanked it off, reveling in Vitya’s messed up hair. 

Viktor had always been tedious with his appearance, careful to make sure his aesthetic was never ruffled or out of place. Seeing that usually immaculate hair unkempt, that perfectly porcelain skin marred by a splotchy, rose-hued flush, that beautiful chest panting in excitement and arousal - knowing that Yuri had a pretty big part in that destruction of the perfection that was Viktor…  _ God, _ it was addicting. 

Yuuri, apparently having finished removing his shirt, made quick work of removing Yuri’s as well.

“God, that color looks fantastic on you,” Yuuri murmured into his ear. “You should wear purple more often.”

Yuri was too far gone on the feeling of Viktor’s fingers finding their way to his nipples to do anything more than nod. He felt frantic, like he didn’t know where he wanted to touch next. He just knew that he wanted all of these pants off  _ right fucking now. _

Both of the older men snorted, and  _ shit. _ He must have said that out loud. Oh fucking well. He wanted it. He was unapologetic about the fact that he wanted to feel their skin sliding over his. 

Yuri tilted his head back on Yuuri’s shoulder as he reached for Viktor’s belt. Vitya eyed them both intensely, watching the path Yuuri’s nails had taken, scratching pink lines in a pattern not unlike that on the Eros costume over Yuri’s skin. Yuri tugged at the belt hard enough to bring Vitya stumbling closer to them by a couple of inches when Yuuri's nails swept over his stomach. He boldly ran his other hand over the prominent swell in Vitya’s pants, savoring the deep groan and the uncontrolled bucking of his hips into Yuri’s hand. Yuri didn’t even bother taking the belt all the way off. He loosened it just enough to get to the button and fly and that was it. 

His hands trembled as they gracelessly slipped over the metal button. Gentle hands slid down his arms and over his hands. Yuri’s eyes flitted open (when had he closed them?) as he watched Yuuri’s darker arms laid over his own, fingers deftly unfastening the button, leaving Yuri to unzip the fly. He bit his lip as he dragged the pants down Vitya’s muscular legs, letting them pool at Vitya’s feet. 

Yuri reached a hand out to touch further when Yuuri ran confident hands over his erection, gently squeezing and pulling as if he was trying to map the shape by touch alone. Yuri was pretty sure his legs would have given out if it wasn’t for Vitya slipping a thigh between his legs, exacerbating his problem while saving him from a fall to the floor. 

Yuuri hummed lowly. “I think it's time we take this to the bed.” 

The three of them stumbled over each other in their haste. Somehow Yuri ended up on his back, head just shy of hitting the pillows. He dazedly watched as Katsudon followed, covering Yuri's body with his own, settling between Yuri’s legs as he bit kisses in a line down Yuri’s toned chest and ripping little moans from his lips. Viktor followed close behind, fluidly following Yuuri’s every backwards motion, and Yuri dizzily watched as he dexterously undid the button and fly of Yuuri’s chinos.

“You’re filling out so fucking well,” Yuuri moaned into Yuri stomach as Viktor hummed in agreement, lightly tracing his nails over the hard line of Yuuri’s cock and Yuri couldn’t help but wonder how and when the meek, mild Katsudon became so fucking devastating behind closed doors. The blush on Yuri’s face spread to his chest as he thought about what they were seeing.

His longer, leaner body, the once compact muscles stretched and lightly toned. The deep pink marring his porcelain cheeks. The slight roughness at his angular jaw line hinting at where his facial hair was starting grow in thicker. His long, blonde hair an absolute fucking mess since no one had bothered taking the ponytail out before tangling their fingers into it. His broadening shoulders now wider than Yuuri’s, a clear indication that he was going to be a fucking  _ giant _ when he was done growing. Clearly, neither Vitya nor Katsudon really cared about the fact that he still wasn’t done maturing or that he wouldn’t for a few years to come, and thank fuck for that. 

Yuri watched in wonder as Viktor worked Yuuri’s pants open, pulling his thick, flushed cock out, stroking root to tip and back in a slow tease that had Yuuri panting, hands faltering at Yuri’s fly. Viktor met Yuri’s eyes as he latched onto Yuuri’s neck with fervor, sucking and biting marks into the skin to match Yuri’s. Moans were torn from Yuuri’s mouth, his mouth dropped open and his eyes squeezed shut, and  _ fuck this. _ Yuri decided he was  _ not _ going to sit there, slack-jawed and immobile as Viktor coaxed pleasure from Katsudon’s body. 

He tentatively grazed the back of his knuckles over the head of Yuuri’s exposed dick, and the older man’s eyes flew back open, shuddering as he watched Yuri’s exploratory fingers map his flesh. 

“Say, Yura, this the first time you’ve ever touched another man’s cock, right?” Viktor asked, the gruffness belying his innocent tone. 

“Yeah,” he affirmed breathlessly, and suddenly Yuuri seemed to need Yuri’s pants off  _ now. _ He planted a hand to the middle of Yuri’s chest, pushing him back onto the bed. Viktor moved to the side with a knowing grin, greedily watching as Yuuri crawled back far enough to forcefully pull Yuri’s skinny jeans and underwear off all at once. 

Yuri felt an immediate need to hide himself away. Sure, he was confident in a lot of things.  He knew he was one of the best ice skaters in the world. He knew was good with money. He knew his way around a kitchen. He knew he had a nice face. Hell, he knew he had a decent body as well, but having it so openly on display for two of the most scorchingly hot men he knew was the quickest route to feeling decidedly insecure. He covered himself with crossed arms, beginning to draw his legs in when Yuuri’s strong hands caught his ankles.

_ “Kuso, _ Yura. Please don’t hide yourself from us.” Yuuri dove down for another thorough, filthy kiss, reaching down to get a hand on Yuri’s leaking cock. Yuri gasped, cursing in his native tongue and arching into the touch, his body a line of pure heat as Yuuri pulled him closer to the edge. 

“I-  _ Fuck-. _ ” He babbled incoherently, throwing a hand out to the side to grip the sheets and catching on Vitya’s muscled thigh instead. Even better. His hips involuntarily thrust up to meet Yuuri’s downstrokes, the movement shooting thrills down his spine. “Ka-Katsudon… Vitya, I-I’m gonna-”

_ “Do it.” _ Yuuri rasped.

“Come for us, Yura,” Vitya urged, and that was it. With a cry and one last desperate thrust, he came, painting hot, messy lines over his stomach and Yuuri’s fist, gripping tight to Viktor. 

Yuuri straightened up, catching Yuri’s eyes as he trailed his fingers over the mess before stroking himself, using Yuri’s come as lubrication and Yuri’s cock valiantly twitched at the image. Viktor rolled onto his knees beside Yuuri, snaking a hand down to gently fondle Yuuri’s balls and murmuring encouraging words into his ear. With a low, drawn out groan Yuuri came in long streaks over Yuri’s body, mixing in with his mess before collapsing on Yuri’s other side. Jesus  _ fuck, _ Yuri wasn’t going to survive these two.

He looked up fondly at Viktor, noting that he somehow hadn’t even taken off his underwear. His cock strained against the fabric, a large wet patch front and center, and Yuri’s mouth watered. He quickly sat up, ignoring Yuuri’s mumbled protests as he settled himself in front of Vitya. 

“I  _ really _ want to suck you.” He blurted, eyes stuck on Viktor’s cock, and for once he was glad for his ruined filter because if he’d thought too much about it, he probably would have bitten the words back in embarrassment. He avoided Yuuri’s wide eyes, focused completely on Vitya.

_ “ _ _ Блядь, _ Yura.  _ Пожалуйста.” _ The older man gasped, and Yuri was well past the point of being insecure. He pulled Viktor’s legs with all of his strength, straightening him out while simultaneously knocking him onto his back. Yuri hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of Vitya’s underwear, tugging until the older man lifted his hips to aid in the process. As soon as they hit the floor, Yuri shouldered his way between Viktor’s legs, hovering a few inches above the long, proud cock before him.

Yuri subtly gulped, nervousness beginning to filter in, and Viktor lightly traced the underside of his chin, tilting his head up.

“You don’t have to, Yura. Not until you’re ready,” he reassured with an approximation of a genuine smile, but Yuri could see the strain in the corners of his mouth, and Yuri  _ wanted _ this. He gently batted Vitya’s hand away with a smirk before just...going for it. 

He quickly took the dripping head into his mouth and Vitya probably would have jackknifed with a surprised shout if Yuuri hadn’t regained the wherewithal to help, watching them with darkened eyes. Yuri set his hands to Viktor’s hips, digging in enough that they might bruise, but it didn’t seem like Vitya minded at all. He just shakily spread his legs further as Yuri ran his tongue over the ridge circling the bottom of the head. He mentally catalogued everything. He decided he wasn’t a fan of the texture of precome, but the taste wasn’t the worst, and the way Vitya’s eyes rolled back as he gripped into his own hair and the low, unmeasured moaning was well worth a tiny bit of discomfort anyway. 

He’d choked on enough bananas  _ (shut the fuck up, it was practice) _ and watched enough porn to know that while he definitely wouldn’t be able to take all of Viktor in, he could just make up the difference with a firm hand. He twisted his hand the way he always liked when touching himself as he slowly let Viktor further into his mouth. He covered his teeth with his lips, letting his tongue explore further on the way down, making sure to suck hard on the way up, and Jesus  _ Christ, _ those noises were enough to get him half mast again. 

He freed Vitya’s hip, reaching under to stroke himself as he set a frenzied pace with his mouth. He whimpered into the velvety skin of Vitya’s cock, and suddenly Viktor’s hands were in his hair, pulling hard enough to make Yuri’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I’m gonna come, baby boy,” Viktor warned in a rush, and  _ shit, _ Yuri did  _ not _ know he had a thing for pet names.

He pulled off long enough to whine, “come in my mouth.  _ Please, _ Vitya,” before sucking him back in with vigor.

Viktor’s legs spread even further, grinding his cock up as far as Yuri’s hand would let him go before he jerked, flooding Yuri’s mouth with bittersweet come, triggering Yuri’s second orgasm of the night. Yuri tried his level best to swallow it all, but what with trying to swallow  _ and _ pant through coming onto the sheets, he still ended up choking, pulling off just to breathe as the last spurts of Viktor’s come splashed over his lips. He absently licked it off and Viktor and Yuuri both groaned.

_ “Christ, _ Yura. You’re going to be the death of us.” Vitya panted out, sluggishly pulling Yuri up to lay between himself and Yuuri. 

Viktor turned to face Yuri, placing the sweetest of kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Yuuri held him close from behind, pressing his own kisses into the (undoubtedly kiss-bruised) curve of his neck, his shoulder, into his hair. Yuri had never felt so buoyant in his life. The smile that had crept onto his face was beginning to hurt, but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He laughed helplessly, the disbelief and excitement and warmth and affection and  _ love _ filling him until he couldn’t keep it in. 

He felt rather than saw both of his lovers’ answering smiles as they pressed them into his skin. Once he settled down, he sank deeper into their arms as a wave of fatigue suddenly washed over him.

With a heavy, contented sigh, Yuuri pulled away, snorting at Yuri’s unhappy grunt. “We need to get cleaned up. We don’t want to be glued together in the morning. Not comfortable, so...I’ll be right back.”

Yuri must have dozed off for a second because he was brought back with a warm, wet washcloth trailing over his skin, cleaning the remnants of their shared pleasure off his body. He cracked an eye open, smiling at Katsudon who returned it shyly, apparently returning to his usual meek and mild setting. Yuri huffed a laugh, pushing himself up to give the older man a sleepy kiss before flopping back down onto the bed.

Once all three men (and the spot on the bed) were cleaned, they settled under the comforter, trading kisses and light, affectionate touches, relishing in the heat and comfort of one another with Yuri in the middle, Katsudon on his left and Vitya on his right. 

It felt  _ right _ resting his head over Viktor’s heart, Vitya’s arm supporting his head and his face turned just so that their foreheads met. It felt right having Yuuri’s strong arms wrapped around his waist, his face buried in Yuri’s hair. It just felt right to be there between them, and Yuri was too tired to acknowledge how fucking sappy that feeling was.

“Thank you. For tonight. This was...amazing.” He whispered bashfully into the quiet room, and both Viktor and Yuuri’s arms tightened around him, a hum of agreement in stereo.   
  
He ignored his flaming cheeks, pressing a kiss over Vitya’s heart as he settled a hand over Yuuri’s, intertwining their fingers. With that, he lost the battle against the pull of sleep, slipping into the land of dreaming and wondering what tomorrow would bring them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Блядь - fuck  
> Пожалуйста - please
> 
> Next up: Yuri's ~actual~ surprise.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. Mental health is a bitch sometimes. 
> 
> Also, I didn't mean to start the chapter this way, but... (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Waking up was usually an almost impossible feat for Yuri. He wasn't exactly known for being a gentle, easygoing morning person. He was violently opposed to early hours and it wasn’t uncommon for him to ignore all of his alarms until he was on the verge of being late. He would rather bask in the brilliant amber-gold of a sunset than be blinded awake by the rising sun, regardless of how beautiful it looked against the soft pinkish-purple sky.

That being said, he could get used to mornings if they all started like this. He’d awakened with a groan as Viktor pressed kisses into the back of his neck, his naked body flush against every line of Yuri’s back, an arm holding him close. Yuri blushed at the lazy slide of Vitya’s morning-hardened cock against his bare ass. His breathing became heavier as he angled his body back into it, pulling a deep, appreciative groan from the older man. 

“Mmm, good morning, Yura,” Viktor purred, sleepy and syrupy and rough all at once, and the tone carried its way toward Yuri’s waking cock. Yuri bit his lip against the moan attempting to escape his lips.

Yuri reached forward, intending on bringing Katsudon into the fun, but furrowed his brow as he felt the empty space, almost cold as though Yuuri had left a while ago. Yuri groggily opened his eyes, frowning at the imprint left behind. Where had he gone? 

Yuri was pulled from his puzzled contemplation with a hand gently pulling the cheeks of his ass apart, a loud, involuntary moan ripping from him as Vitya’s cock dragged against his hole. A warm tongue traced over his neck as he shuddered. 

“Is this- Is this okay?” Vitya panted against his shoulder.

Yuri felt like he was on fire, his teenaged body desperate for the promise of pleasure in the grip of Viktor’s fingers. He groaned, deep and needy as he pushed himself further into Vitya’s hands, huffing as the older man stilled as if waiting for his explicit consent.  

“Christ, yes,  _ please,” _ and that was all it took for Viktor to push him forward onto his stomach. 

Yuri raised up on his elbows as he turned to watch Vitya fumble with the lube in his excitement. Yuri bit his lip as Viktor pulled the blanket down his thighs to rest at his knees. Yuri was about to suggest they pull the blanket all the way off when Viktor straddled Yuri, settling his knees on the blanket, effectively pinning Yuri’s legs to the bed.  

Yuri shivered as he heard the  _ snick _ of the lube opening and the slick sounds made by Viktor coating his cock. Yuri swallowed against the sudden bout of nerves. They'd agreed last night that they wouldn't go all the way until Yuri was ready, and while he trusted Vitya, this was happening so fast, and in his sleepy state, he was worried that-

“Shh, relax. I’m not going to fuck you today. I just want to feel you.” Vitya reassured, cutting through Yuri's distress and running his free hand over the tense line of Yuri’s back. Yuri didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as Viktor poured more lube onto his bared asshole. He flinched against the shock of cold as Vitya pressed kisses of apology to the back of his neck. 

He was thankful for the pillows in front of him. He pushed his flaming face into them as Viktor began rocking his cock over Yuri’s sensitive hole. Yuri clenched against the feeling, rocking up into it as best he could while pinned, whining into the fabric for more.  

A strong hand carded into his hair, pulling his head up off the pillows and tearing a moan from him. Yuri cursed into the quiet room as the tugging on his hair send a bolt down to his straining cock. He felt like he was going to go crazy as Vitya picked up the pace, his cock catching on Yuri’s relaxed hole every few strokes. He panted into the quiet room as he gripped into the sheets in front of him, little whimpers caught in his throat in response to each and every one of Viktor’s choked groans.

“M-more,” he pleaded, and Viktor stilled. Yuri was on the verge of begging when he felt the blunt head of Viktor’s cock pointedly rubbing into his furled hole. He moaned appreciatively, trying to spread his legs. He lazily smirked at Viktor’s rough cursing.

“Can I? J-just the tip, Yura. Just the tip.” Viktor asked, his voice breaking as he held himself tense above Yuri, giving him an out like Yuri would ever want one.

“Just fucking give it to me,” demanded impatiently, and  _ fuck. _

Viktor pulled back just far enough to push his thumb into Yuri’s hole, and Yuri was a fucking live wire. He clenched around the intrusion, relaxing as Viktor pressed tender kisses into his shoulders, murmuring little bits of encouragement into Yuri’s ear not unlike what he'd whispered into Yuuri’s the night before. Yuri’s brow furrowed against the stretch of Viktor slowly pushing two fingers into him, and he wondered where exactly Katsudon had went anyway.  

 _Speak of the devil,_ Yuri thought as a familiar cleared throat sounded to his right. Yuri turned his head to see a red-faced Yuuri, his wide-eyed expression caught somewhere between intrigued and pissed off. Yuri couldn’t help but feel guilty, like he was doing something wrong with Vitya.   

_ Maybe he only wants me to be with them when they’re both together? Maybe he thought this was cheating? Maybe Yuuri didn’t even really want him and was going along with what Vitya wanted. _ Yuri thought as he pushed his face back into the pillows, mortified. He began to wiggle away from Vitya’s touch, suddenly needing to get the fuck out of there, but was stopped by a third hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. He swallowed past the lump building in his throat as he felt the bed dip beside him. He braced for the reprimand.

“Yuri?” Katsudon hesitantly asked, the  _ what’s wrong _ implied in his tone. Yuri shook his head, startling when soft hands trailed down his back meeting Viktor’s. His head snapped up, confused and wide-eyed as he looked at Yuuri’s warm face, clear of anger. “If you want us to stop at any time, just tell us.”

Yuri’s eyes squeezed shut as Yuuri lay beside him, brushing his hair back before nibbling down Yuri's back, unhurriedly pushing his own finger alongside Viktor’s stationary two. Yuri choked around the burn as they began moving in tandem in and out of Yuri’s body. His cock that had flagged for a moment swiftly reawakened. He could voice his concern later. For now, he wanted to focus on the two men fingering him open and how fucking good it felt. 

“Are we fucking you today? I didn’t think you were ready for that just yet,” Yuuri casually asked, and _god,_ Yuri was pretty sure he would never get used to this confidence his Katsudon held in bed.   
  
“N-no. We’re doing- ah, _fuck, right there-_ we’re doing just the t-tip,” Yuri rasped before snapping. _“Please,_ can we take this fucking blanket off?”   

Viktor chuckled as he leaned forward, his fingers slipping deeper as he kicked the blanket off the bed. With his legs finally free, Yuri pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. He ignored the heat coloring his face as his lovers’ fingers slipped out of him. He threw a coy look back at them over his shoulder as his hole clenched around the sudden emptiness.  

“Just the tip, yeah, Vitya?” He smirked, ignoring the slight shake of his voice that belied his nerves. 

He was met with twin groans and a plush-blunt head resting against his lube-covered hole.

“Are you sure about this, Yura?” Vitya asked, and while Yuri appreciated the care and concern, he’d reached the end of his patience. He impulsively shoved himself back, freezing with a shout as half of Vitya’s lengthy cock suddenly filled him. 

This wasn’t the plan. It was only supposed to be the tip. He found that he was oddly okay with it, but that didn’t mean _Viktor_ was okay with it, regardless of the loud, drawn out _‘fuuuck’_ he'd called out. Yuri had just forced himself onto Vitya further than the point they’d agreed on. He breathed harshly against the stretch, cursing and apologizing to his lovers in turn. He tried pulling away, feeling like an absolute asshole, like he’d just sexually assaulted one of his best friends, like a fucking monster, when strong fingers gripped into his hips hard enough to bruise.  

“If you want- want to stop, we can stop, but I’m okay with this.” Viktor panted out. “I can just pull back. It’s up to you.”  

“Y-yeah,” Yuri said and immediately panicked as Viktor began pulling out without question. “No! I meant yeah, just pull back. I-I don’t want to stop.” 

Viktor froze for a moment before purring into Yuri’s back, “just the tip, or...?”

Yuri’s mind raced for a moment before nodding. “Just the tip. We can, ah, do  _ it _ some other time.” 

This time, when Viktor pulled back, Yuri didn’t flip his shit. Yuuri, who’d remained still and silent after Yuri’s shout, watched raptly as Viktor’s head popped in and out of Yuri’s clenching hole. Yuri bucked his hips downward, trying in vain to get some pressure on his weeping cock. Just as he dropped to his elbows with his ass in the air, reaching for his cock, Yuuri smacked his hand away, laying his own hand on Yuri, jerking him off with firm, even strokes. 

Behind him, Viktor sped up, desperately asking Yuri if he could come inside him and Yuri sobbed out a  _ ‘fuck yes’ _ just as he began seeing stars. Viktor hissed as he shoved in one last time, his head engulfed in the hot, wet heat of Yuri’s ass, gripping tight as he filled the younger man.

Feeling the heat of Vitya’s come filling him added to the twitching and tugging at his hole was too much for Yuri. He tried to warn them as he flew over the edge, but it came out as an incoherent, garbled mess as he spilled over Yuuri’s firm grasp. 

Yuri wearily smirked at the sharp gasp he was granted as he clenched down tight around Vitya’s spent cock when he pulled out. Yuri collapsed off to the side, avoiding the mess he’d made -  _ again _ \- on the bed. He smiled up at his lovers as Katsudon attacked Viktor’s mouth, his erection poking through the hole of his sleep pants. Yuri bit his lip as he watched them, biting back the jealousy of the natural ebb and flow of their practiced kissing. He hoped they'd get there with him too one day.

He leaned forward to get a hand on his Katsudon, leering as the older man moaned into Vitya’s mouth. He was halfway sure he could subsist solely on the noises they made under his touch. Viktor’s hand met his and the both of them worked together getting their lover off, reveling in the whimpers and the jerking hips and the way Katsudon’s eyes rolled up when Yuri twisted just right. Eventually Yuuri’s cock grew even harder, his hands clinging to Vitya as his come splashed onto the older man’s spent cock, ripping back from the kiss with a deep groan. 

Yuri  _ loved _ seeing them like this. Yuuri and Viktor wrecked, completely come drunk with flushed cheeks and mussed up hair. Their skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Panting breaths, the only sound to fill the silence of the room. Fondness and affection and  _ love _ in their gazes, and when they turned it on Yuri, he felt as if he could fly. His heart practically beat out of his chest, and the tug at the corners of his mouth pulled into a grin before he even thought about it.

Yuuri carded his fingers into his hair, gently pulling him up and into a deep, searing kiss. Yuuri was passion and all-encompassing and heat and toe-curling intensity. Yuri moaned into the other's mouth a moment before he was pulled away and turned to meet Viktor’s lips. Viktor kissed Yuri like he kissed Yuuri, pouring all of himself into it, sweet and loving and unrestrained and thorough, like he wanted to prove that he could pull you apart and put you back together with nothing but his lips. It was dizzying, and Yuri wouldn't trade these two for anything.

Their kiss ended abruptly with the sound of an alarm, and a spill of Japanese cursing. 

“We're going to be late!” Yuuri exclaimed and almost tripped fell off the bed in his rush to get dressed. 

“Late for what?” Yuri inquired, confused as clothes were shoved into his hands. Viktor had rushed out of the room, presumably to clean the come from his skin, and Yuri, being met with a non-answer, left to find the bathroom too. He cringed at the feel of the lube growing tacky between his cheeks.

He stopped short when he turned the corner into the bathroom. Watching Viktor clean himself shouldn't fluster him as much as in did, especially since he'd just had the older man's cock in his ass, but this somehow felt more intimate. He stared, wide-eyed and embarrassed as Viktor turned, a shy smile gracing his lips and  _ what? _

He finished up, throwing the washcloth in the laundry before planting a kiss on Yuri's forehead, leaving him to his ablutions. Yuri worked quickly, brushing his hair and throwing on the borrowed clothes, smiling in the mirror as he observed himself in Yuuri’s clothes. He  _ just _ fit them, the sweater pulling a bit tight at the shoulders and just overlapping the pants by an inch. The smile quickly turned into a scowl. 

He was growing at an alarming rate, much faster than he'd anticipated, and it already affected his skating and his center of gravity and literally everything. It wouldn’t be long before he outgrew the ability to wear Yuuri’s clothes too. He  _ liked _ wearing something that belonged to the older man. He  _ liked _ smelling Yuuri’s soap and a faint waft of cologne on the collar. He wanted to roll around in it like a cat in catnip. 

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

“Does everything fit okay?” Katsudon’s gentle voice drifted through the door.

“Ah, yeah,” he replied, opening the door with a smirk. “What do you think?” 

Yuri didn't think he mistook the flash of heat in Yuuri’s wide eyes, but he _definitely_ didn't miss the rosy flush rising on Yuuri’s cheeks. He traced a finger over the high points of Yuuri’s cheeks and _god, he was cute._  

He must have said that out loud (honestly, his filter can go fuck itself at this point) because the flush deepened and Katsudon stuttered out a bashful thank you. Yuri bit his lip against a smile, huffing an amused laugh as he watched Yuuri flail. 

“I, uh- We have to go.” Yuuri said, leaving to get ready for whatever the hell they had planned for the day. 

Yuri followed more sedately, thinking back on the events of yesterday and this perfect morning. He didn't think he'd genuinely smiled so often in...he couldn't remember how long. This was honestly the happiest he'd felt about his personal life in ages. He pulled his shoes and coat on, following his lovers out the door, smothering the hysterical smile as they entered the elevator. He closed his eyes, tipping his head down to hide his grin behind his curtain of hair.

“Are you ready for your big surprise, Yura?” Viktor asked, innocent and nonchalant in a way that Yuri  _ knew _ was a farce. ‘Innocent’ and ‘nonchalant’ were not words one would use for Vitya. ‘Mischievous’ and ‘no chill’ were more apt. He side-eyed the older man for a moment, raising a brow.

“Of course I’m ready. I probably can’t talk you into giving me any hints, could I?” He asked. 

“Nope!” Vitya answered, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a pop and a wide, heart-shaped grin. Yuri rolled his eyes as he lost the battle against his own responding smile.

Once the elevator doors opened, Yuuri grabbed both his and Vitya’s hands, power walking out to their car. This time, he took the passenger’s seat while Yuri sat in the backseat contemplating what the hell these two could possibly surprise him with. 

What could be bigger than finally landing a date with the two men he’d been pining after for a (frankly embarrassingly) long time? He didn’t think anything could top the last twenty-four hours. He sighed happily, resting his head against the headrest, letting his eyes drift closed. 

\---

He jerked awake, cursing himself. He really needed to stop falling asleep in Viktor and Yuuri’s car. He’d fully intended on asking Yuuri if he was really okay with everything. He’d seemed like it last night, but earlier… Yuri was still uneasy about the anger he’d seen in the seemingly unassuming Yuuri.

He frowned blearily, wondering where the fuck they were. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned one last time before the door beside him opened, startling him.

“Calm down,  _ neko-chan. _ We’re here. Time for your big surprise!” Yuuri said in a rush, excitement evident in the way he bounced on the balls of his feet. Yuri bit lip. Maybe he was just overthinking things. He shook the negativity clinging to him off, jumping out of the car, curious about what was in store for him. The smile that had begun to grow quickly cut to anger and disbelief. He rounded on Viktor and Yuuri.

“I swear to fucking _god,_ if you two assholes planned some sort of trip without telling me, I’m going to be _pissed.”_ He spit. He ignored their shock in the face of his ire. His temper was nothing new.  

They were at fucking Pulkovo Airport of all places. Judging by last night and the whole ‘oh, you’re spending the night, we forgot to tell you before you got in the car, sorry’ thing, this wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, but  _ still. _ This was complete and utter bullshit, and they had to know that. Seeing their surprise slide to amusement only served to piss him off more, and he was gearing up for a rant about the unfairness of not letting him be prepared, of cutting into his precious practice time (especially when he had to get used to this height change), of their thoughtlessness, only to be cut short by a snort.

“Just come on. You’ll see when we get inside.” Viktor coaxed, holding his hand out for Yuri to take. 

With a great scowl, he took it, reluctantly allowing himself to be lead through the parking lot. He looked back at Yuuri, completely at ease, and wondered what the hell they were thinking. They didn’t even bring their bags! What the shit were they planning to do with no clothes, no toiletries,  _ nothing? _ These two were definitely bigger morons than he’d thought if the big surprise was some surprise vacation. While it’d be nice to take a trip with them someday, now was  _ not _ the time. 

They walked through the automatic doors, hooking left and came to a sudden stop. Yuri looked up, confused, and suddenly it felt like time stopped.

Just up ahead, not even ten feet away, his  _ dedushka _ stood with a smile. Yuri gasped, releasing Vitya’s hand and  _ launching _ himself at his grandfather. He felt the tears immediately cloud his vision as he held on for dear life.

He hadn’t seen his  _ dedushka _ since the Rostelecom Cup. It’s been  _ months _ since he could cling to the man that raised him when his parents decided he was too much for them to handle. What with both of them working their asses off almost nonstop, and the nine and a half hour drive just wasn’t feasible for either of them to make. Sure, they called each other at least every other day, and Yuri had tried to teach his grandfather about Facetime with little success, but it wasn’t the same as being able to be there with him. 

Through the familiar cologne his grandfather had worn since Yuri was a kid, he could smell the hint of grease and oil permeating his grandfather’s clothes. That old man worked far too hard for someone as old as he was- not that Yuri would ever say that out loud lest he was ready for a lecture on hard work ethic and not giving up at the first sign of aging (as if Yuri didn’t understand this already). The scratchy wool hat rubbed against his cheek and he was taken back to when he was younger, before he’d even started skating, and loved to try on all of  _ dedushka’s _ clothes. The deep, rumbling laugh and reprimand for trying to shatter the old man made him step back, worry in his eyes he ran his gaze over his grandfather, checking for any actual injury. 

“Don’t worry, Yurochka. I’m not broken just yet.”  _ Dedushka _ said with a beaming smile, observing Yuri. “You’ve gotten so big since I saw you last. I hardly recognized you!”

“I- Yeah,” he broke off with a laugh. “What- How? How are you here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“And spoil the surprise? I think not. Besides, it wasn’t truly my surprise to spoil.” At Yuri’s bewilderment, his grandfather continued. “Your two men over there- they set this up. Bought me the ticket. Offered their guest bedroom for the duration of my stay. They wouldn’t even take no for an answer.” He chuckled.

Yuri’s face slackened in realization, turning his watery, awed expression on Vitya and Katsudon who stood with warm, fond smiles (Yuuri seemed to be as teary as Yuri himself). He wrapped them both in a hug, pulling them close, basking in both of them squeezing back just as tight. “I… You…” He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, unable to articulate  _ how much _ this meant to him. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone guess that this was the surprise? 
> 
> Next, Dedushka's visit and an embarrassing conversation.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! In a rush of inspiration, I wrote this in 3 days lol. I hope you like it!
> 
> NOTE: "Deda" is a shortened form of "Dedushka" and "Dedulya" (seen once) is a term of endearment for "Dedushka." All of these mean "grandfather." :)

Yuri couldn’t believe the week he was having so far. 

From a small little celebratory thing at the rink to a date with Viktor and Yuuri to those fricking _ponchiki_ (which were gone not long after Dedushka arrived) to  making each other come _more than once_ (which never failed to bring a vibrant flush to his cheeks when he thought about it) to the shock of his ‘big surprise’ to now. It’d been three days since Vitya and Katsudon took him to the airport to pick his grandfather up, and he still had two more left. He was soaking as much time up as was physically possible.  

Sure, he had to stumble through practice for at least a few hours a day (if he could stop growing, that would be _great),_ but as soon as he was done, he was rushing ho- to Viktor and Yuuri’s to visit with his grandfather. He still couldn’t believe they did this for him. Every time he saw his grandfather, he felt a desire to fling himself at Viktor or Yuuri (whoever was closest) and press kisses of thanks into their stupid, handsome faces. Unfortunately, the only downside to his grandfather being here was that he wasn’t sure the old man knew about his relationship status.   

He’d talked to his deda about Viktor and Yuuri for years now, and he’d already had the ‘oh hey, pretty sure I’m gay’ talk, but this was a whole other conversation to be had. He knew his grandfather was fine with his sexuality. He’d always only wanted Yuri to be happy. He was Yuri’s biggest supporter, and nothing so simple as who he would love could damage that connection. Still, Yuri wasn’t sure of his grandfather’s stance on polyamory. With men nine and twelve years his senior. He felt like he had to tiptoe around his grandfather in a way that he never had to before, stealing kisses when he was in the bathroom or a couple heated looks literally behind his back.

Even so, it was such a rarity to see his grandfather that Yuri wanted to do  _ everything _ with him. Yuri took him to some of his favorite sites around St. Petersburg, to feed the gulls dotted along the Neva river like they’d done when Yuri was a kid, to his favorite restaurants (he didn’t think Handlebar was on par with what his grandfather would like, though he did regale his grandfather with the mess it was last time he went [he ignored the curious, little glint in his grandfather’s eyes when he mentioned Viktor and Yuuri]). When they were home  _ (home?), _ they played card games, played with Makkachin (his grandfather absolutely loved dogs), talked for hours about their lives, updating each other on every little thing they’d missed, sometimes with laughter, sometimes choking back tears. They’d even made  _ pirozhki _ together in Vitya and Katsudon’s substantial kitchen - both regular and katsudon - for everyone, which brought them to the here and now.

Yuri, Dedushka, Viktor and Yuuri sat at the modern, square table, and his grandfather should have looked out of place, dark and a little rough around the edges in a room full of bright, crisp, clean lines, but with the ease and flow of the conversation and with how relaxed everyone was, his grandfather fit perfectly. Yuri thought his heart could swell right out of his chest with how much Vitya and Yuuri took to his grandfather. 

He watched as Viktor laughed, deep and full and with that fucking heart-shaped mouth, along with Yuuri, with his red face and a couple adorable involuntary snorts, as his grandfather amused them stories of his youth, of his work and his coworkers, of little Yuri (much to his chagrin, but he’d never pass up a chance to see the three people he cared about most light up the way they did when the subject came up). Yuri set his flushed face to a scowl, fighting the mortification as his grandfather told them about how when tiny Yuri had watched Viktor skate for the first time, he’d professed that he ‘would marry that person someday.’

Viktor’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Is that so, Yura?”

“Shut the hell up, Vitya. I was four.” He looked at Katsudon for some backup only to find the traitor was laughing behind his hand. He rolled his eyes at them all. “Besides, I can’t marry you. You’re already engaged.”

And suddenly, it was quiet. Yuri watched Viktor and Yuuri grow visibly uncomfortable, Viktor’s eyes narrowed in some sort of contemplation while Yuuri just shoved his katsudon pirozhki in his face, avoiding his eyes, and  _ what the hell? _ What he’d said was true, so he wasn’t sure what the issue was. Sure, he liked the idea of being married, maybe even to the fools he could now call ‘lovers’ someday, and while he wished polyamorous marriage was a thing, it just wasn’t. It wasn’t a possible future for him. He shared a perplexed look with his dedushka before clearing his throat.

“What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly.

“Ah, nothing to worry about!” Yuuri exclaimed, an anxiety-tinged smile stretching his face. Yuri gave him a look that could only be described as ‘what the fuck’ before turning to Viktor with raised brows.

“Like Yuuri said, it’s nothing to worry about. Just some things to consider.” His fake smile almost distracted Yuri from what the hell he’d just said.

‘Things to consider’ could mean anything, really. The first thought that ran through Yuri’s mind was that they’d probably end this tryst with him when they were ready to actually get married, leaving him disposable and unnecessary. The second was that his reminder that they were, in fact, engaged made them realize they were cheating on each other or some such shit, and that maybe they wanted to end it now, cut their losses before they stuck their foot too far into hell’s gate. The third was that they’d want to break the engagement to somehow include him, but that was far from a possibility. They loved each other too much to  _ not _ want to bind themselves to each other like that. Yuri felt a wave of guilt crash over him for the suggestion. The fourth was that he needed to stop thinking about Viktor and Yuuri’s engagement when he’d literally  _ just _ started whatever this relationship was between them.

Yuri tried to keep his breathing steady, pushing down the panic and misery, shoving food in his mouth and offering a piece to the unperturbed Makkachin to distract himself, to prevent him from saying anything embarrassing in front of not only Viktor and Yuuri, but also his grandfather- his  _ grandfather _ who was sitting back, looking at them all with silent consideration. He felt like his heart was in his throat, and he honestly didn’t know whether this conversation was going to head toward safer territory or to hell. He swallowed down his overly chewed food and frantically looked for a different subject to bring up.

“So, when were you going to tell me you were in a relationship with two soon-to-be married,  _ adult _ men?” His dedushka cut in, arms crossed and serious and dashing all of Yuri’s hopes to make it out of this conversation with his pride intact. Yuri flinched at the implication that he was still a child. He  _ knew _ he was young, but considering he was not only legal, but also had been supporting himself for a while now, he thought maybe his dedushka would consider him an adult as well.

“Well, we- I-” 

“We’re not ‘soon-to-be married,’ sir,” Yuuri quiety cut in, and Yuri’s wide eyes snapped to his. “Viktor said he wouldn’t marry me until I won gold anyway, but even if-  _ when _ I do, there’s a lot to be considered.”

“Also, with all due respect, isn’t Yuri also an adult?” Viktor added smoothly. 

His grandfather sighed, clearly uncomfortable. “Legally yes, but he is  _ just _ an adult. Practically still a child. What could you possibly want with him?” He shot a suspicious look at both Viktor and Yuuri, and Yuri was pretty sure he would melt into the floor, he was so humiliated.

“We don’t want anything that Yura isn't willing to give. Neither Yuuri or I went into this expecting anything from him, and we are fiercely opposed to doing anything that would make him uncomfortable. I just-” Viktor paused, meeting Yuuri's eyes. _ “We _ just want Yura for Yura. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“He’s-” Yuuri broke off with a deeply flushed, bashful smile, turning to hold Yuri’s grandfather’s eye. “He’s strong and hard-working and ambitious, passionate and courageous and underneath his tough exterior, he’s warm and sincere and so many things that I don’t think he even knows about himself.” Yuri was  _ not _ going to cry, goddamn it. “Did he tell you about what happened after the Rostelecom Cup?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.” His grandfather sighed through his nose, significantly more relaxed.

“Vitya went back to Japan after my short program to make sure Makkachin was going to be okay. The poor thing had choked on some steamed buns and had to be rushed to the vet. I myself had lost my dog a few years ago and I wasn’t there for him and I didn’t want Viktor to regret not leaving if anything bad happened to  _ his _ dog. Anyway, we’d just finished our free skate programs and mine…” He sighed. “I made a  _ lot _ of mistakes. Technical mistakes, I wasn’t completely there for part of the performance. I was kind of a mess without Viktor,” he said on a chuckle, his smile widening as Vitya laid his hand over Yuuri’s. “I was really beating myself up over it. I needed a hug, but no one felt right, you know? Hell, Yuri ran away when I tried to give him one,” he shook his head, amused. “He found me afterwards and gave me so much shit for screwing up so badly. He basically told me I  _ had _ to do better. He’s always been good at pushing me that extra little bit that I didn’t know I needed.” He smiled fondly at Yuri who was trying his level best to keep the tears from spilling. “Then, he shared the katsudon pirozhkis you made for him with me. I think I complimented them on how good they tasted, and his face just lit up. That was the first time I’d seen him smile so brightly, but that wasn’t the first time my heart skipped for him.” He held a hand up at dedushka’s indignation. “I didn’t do or say anything until his birthday. He was underage at that point, and I wouldn’t try anything with someone who was not only legal, but also someone that wasn’t my boyfriend at the time. Vitya and I talked a lot between then and now. We refused to do anything until he was of age, and only if he was absolutely positive about what he wanted from us. And, uh...here we are.” He finished feebly.

Yuri stared, slack-jawed and misty-eyed. He didn’t even know what to do with himself. He was sure Yuuri wasn’t as okay with everything as he let on, but apparently Yuri was wrong. He huffed a disbelieving laugh, turning his gaze to his dumbfounded grandfather. Dedushka clenched his jaw, looking like he was trying to find something,  _ anything _ to be angry about, before deflating.

“Are you happy, Yurochka?” Dedushka murmured. 

“Yeah,” Yuri choked out, avoiding Yuuri and Viktor’s eyes. “Yeah, I really am.”

With a great, heaving sigh, his grandfather rounded on Viktor, pointing right in his face. “You’d better take care of my grandson. If you hurt him in any way, you’ll regret it.”

Viktor looked at Yuri in alarm, and Dedushka’s stony facade cracked. His deep, roaring laughter was infectious, sending Yuri into a fit. The tears, now unmanageable, poured down his face as he curled in on himself. He hid his face in his hands as he cackled, covertly wiping the tears away as he settled down with a few dying giggles. He shook his head, smiling as he looked back at Vitya and Yuuri’s bemused faces. 

“I have to say, I didn’t expect the shovel talk, deda,” he admitted with a tilt of his head. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be okay. I’m in good hands.” He grimaced as the implications of  _ that _ connected. “You know what the hell I mean.”

His grandfather smiled knowingly. “Yeah, yeah. You know I had to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of.” He clapped his hands on Viktor’s and Yuuri’s shoulders, shaking them a bit. “Relax. I like you boys. You were thoughtful and kind enough to plan this whole visit before you even knew if my boy wanted to be with you two. This whole relationship is weird, but if Yuri is happy, I’m happy. Besides,” he looked at Vitya, “I’ve known you for years now, and you’ve always been good to him, and you,” he turned to Yuuri, “well, honestly, I don’t know much about you besides what Yurochka’s told me and what I’ve seen since landing. I can tell you’re a good man.” He sat back with a wide smile.

Yuri sucked his lips in, biting down as he watched the indignation, relief, happiness and bewilderment fight for the dominating expression on both Viktor’s and Yuuri’s faces. They both settled on something like hesitant contentment. Yuri made sure to give them reassuring smiles when they turned nervous looks his way. They all turned back into their food, suddenly ravenous.

After a slightly more stilted conversation, they finished, ready to turn in for the night. Yuri prepared to take the couch again when his dedushka grabbed his arm, motioning to door leading to the kitchen where Vitya and Yuuri were cleaning up with a roll of his eyes. He furrowed his brows, confused as to what his grandfather was telling him to do.

“You go make sure I haven’t traumatized them to death and, if you agree not to do anything that I’ll be able to hear, I guess I can’t really be opposed to you staying with them tonight.” Dedushka offered with a proverbial olive branch.

Yuri beamed, hugging the old man tight with a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, dedulya.”

“Oh, and Yurochka?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about. Nothing to worry yourself over, but maybe we could go to that place we went to yesterday for breakfast and talk about it?” His grandfather asked, a thread of tightness in the lines of his face. Yuri’s brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

His deda smiled. “I’m fine.”

Yuri turned to head to the kitchen when he was yet again stopped by his grandfather. 

“Please be sure to be, ah,  _ safe, _ if you know what I mean.” His dedushka said with raised brows, a little uncomfortable but a lot concerned. Yuri grimaced so hard, he probably looked pained, but nodded nonetheless before beating a quick retreat.

He padded over to the kitchen, stopping short when he registered Yuuri’s low, heated voice.

“You  _ know _ what the hell I want.” 

“Then we should talk to Yuri about this.” Viktor’s quiet voice asserted.

“I don’t think so. Not yet."   


“Why the hell not?” Viktor hissed.

“Because what if it’s too much? What if he hates us for even suggesting it?” Yuuri sounded...distressed? Yuri furrowed his brows as he inched closer.

“Yuri isn't going to hate us.” Viktor scoffed. “If anything, he might not be opposed to the idea.”

A disbelieving snort and short “sure” was the only response, followed by an uncomfortable silence. 

Yuri felt like he was a bit choked. What the actual hell were they talking (or rather, fighting) about? They almost  _ never _ fought, at least not that Yuri knew. They were the picture of the perfect couple. A few playful tiffs here, maybe a stern silent conversation or two there, but Yuri honestly couldn’t remember a time where he saw them actually argue. And less than a full week since he came into the picture and here they were, hissing at each other behind closed doors about Yuri, or something that would affect Yuri, no less.

He honestly felt like backpedaling, turning in for the night on the just-too-firm couch and dealing with it never, but honestly, when was Yuri one to completely back down from anything? He didn’t know what the hell was going on with them, but he figured they’d bring it to his attention when they were ready. He’d just have to be patient (which has never been a strong suit for Yuri, but fuck it, he’ll try), and try to enjoy whatever time he had with them.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself, waiting for a minute to give himself enough time to make it look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. He shook off the the tension built in his shoulders and schooled his melancholy to something like neutrality, quietly opening the door. He raised his brows at the men before him.

Viktor was leaning against the counter, brows furrowed with a deep frown, completely lost in thought while Yuuri sat on one of the chairs at the island, glasses cast aside with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, tension in his other hand fisted at the table. Yuri swallowed heavily before clearing his throat. 

“I, uh, came to see if you needed any help.” He stood there awkwardly as both Yuuri and Viktor jumped in surprise, their faces morphing to the fakest ‘casual’ smiles he’d ever seen. 

“Yura! I didn’t see you there! Ah, no. We got it all covered.” Viktor said with a bright (fake) smile, patting the running dishwasher beside him. “Thank you though.”

“No problem.” Yuri eyed Katsudon, who hadn’t moved from his spot and wouldn’t meet his eye. “Are you alright?”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped to his, overly wide like when bad liars try to make you believe they’re innocent, nodding. “I- Yeah. I’m fine.” 

Yuri pursed his lips, nodding in response as he rocked back on his heels. “Anyway, my deda is under the assumption that I need to make sure he didn’t scare the shit out of you, so…”

Yuuri’s facsimile of a smile grew more genuine as he huffed a laugh. “I can’t speak for Viktor, but I’m fine. Besides, you’ll probably get the ‘shovel talk’ from both Minako, Yuuko  _ and _ Mari so I’m more scared of what they’ll say.” He smirked as Yuri’s face blanched.

“Did you get that shit when you started dating Katsudon?” Yuri asked Vitya.

“Oh yeah,” Viktor smirked, turning to Yuuri. “How did Minako say it again? She’d ‘cut my balls off and wear them as earrings’ if I ever hurt you? Such a colorful way with words, that one.” He looked back to Yuri. “Mari’s equally terrifying. Yuuko was a little nicer. I think she just threatened to punch them rather than cut them off.”

“Christ.” Yuri said, shaking his head. “Thanks for the heads up, I guess.”

“At least you won’t have to deal with that from anyone from my family.” Viktor shrugged.

“Please. I already know I’ll be getting bullshit from Chris the next time we talk.” Yuri rolled his eyes. 

“Oh yeah. I guess you’re not safe after all.” Viktor laughed, and Yuri stuck his tongue out at him.

“Since you’re clearly not actually traumatized, can we go to bed now?” Yuri tilted his head, smirking at both Viktor and Yuuri’s surprise. He motioned for them to follow before leaving for the bedroom. 

They both knew  _ he _ was the one to make the whole ‘no sleeping together while Dedushka was here’ rule. Now, that the rule wasn’t necessary, he was going to take advantage of that freedom. Not only did his deda know about their relationship thing, but now that he also got explicit permission to do so, he was going to sleep on a bed that didn’t make him wake up stiff and sore. Being in Vitya and Katsudon’s arms only sweetened the deal that much more. Also, if he didn’t kiss these two before long, he was going to go crazy.

As soon as the bedroom door swung open, he took off his jeans and hopped on the bed, melting into the mattress with groan. Three nights of sleeping on a couch shouldn’t feel like a fucking eternity, but it was a (sometimes literal) pain in the ass and made his practices twice as difficult to start. He closed his eyes, starfished and comfortable with his hair a fan over the blanket. 

He started to drift off, wondering what was taking them so long when he was brought back by a fond sigh and a hand trailing down his bare shin. He cracked his eyes open, watching as Viktor knelt at the foot of the bed, removing Yuri’s socks with a sweet, little smile that he reflected before pressing light kisses to the curve where his foot meets his ankle.

Yuuri closed the door and remained there for a moment, contemplating them with a his thumbnail between his teeth, before crossing to the bed. He crawled beside Yuri, close enough for Yuri to see the absolute lightest freckles he had ever seen. They hit the highest points of Yuuri’s cheeks and over his nose, faint little things that he never would have noticed from far away. His eyes danced over them, connecting them into fine constellations and secretly naming them after things he loved about the older man -  _ compassion, fierce, hidden strength, determination. _ A couple even sat on the gentle curves of Yuuri’s lips, and Yuri wanted to see what they tasted like.

Yuuri beat him to it though, brushing his long, blonde hair out of his face before capturing him in a kiss. Yuri twisted to press himself further into the kiss, fists gripped into Katsudon’s shirt like it grounded him, relishing in the slow, slick slide of their lips over one another. Yuuri seemed to be perfectly content luxuriating in the feeling of Yuri’s soft hair between his fingers, in the heat given off from their proximity, in the steady ascension to kiss-drunk bliss. It was a slow burn that they both reveled in and Yuri felt buoyant and like the butterflies in his stomach beat just under his skin.

Viktor must have gotten himself ready for bed because when he lay himself against Yuri, he was in nothing but his underwear. He trailed his fingers down Yuuri’s back, pulling them all that much closer as he pressed kisses into his hair, behind his ear, down his neck, over his shoulder. Yuri felt little licks of heat rush to his cock with each hint of tongue and teeth snuck between the lazy drag of Vitya’s lips. He moaned into Yuuri’s lips, pressing his ass into the cradle of Vitya's hips, pulling an answering groan from behind him. 

His breathing grew harsher as Viktor’s hand snaked under his t-shirt, even when it just danced over his stomach, toying with the light trail of hair leading to his thickening cock. He bit into Yuuri’s lip as Viktor’s fingers brushed over the base before retreating. Yuuri grunted at the sharp teeth catching at his lip before pulling back, brushing his hair back again like he wanted to see all of Yuri’s face. 

“I don’t want to do anything more than this tonight.” At the flash of hurt on Yuri’s face, he quickly reassured,  _ “trust _ me, I would, but I don’t feel comfortable with pleasuring you with your grandfather across the hall.”

Yuri grimaced at the mention of his dedushka, the reminder effectively killing the sexual mood. “I understand. I don’t want to do anything you’re not into anyway.”

“Oh, Yura, I’m into this.” Yuuri leered.

“I don’t think Yuuri wants your deda to hear the moans we want to pull from you.” Viktor whispered in his ear and Yuri shuddered as he punctuated with a bite to the shell of his ear. 

Yuuri hummed in agreement before pressing a gentle peck to his lips before getting up, pulling off his pants and shirt, haphazardly throwing them in the direction of the laundry hamper. He smirked amusedly as Yuri ran his eyes over Yuuri’s body. Yuri, upon being caught, scowled playfully, pointedly turning himself over and in Viktor’s direction.

He was met with a genuine smile, the one that lit his whole face from within, where his eyes crinkled at the corners and the slightest of indentations showed up in his cheeks, almost unnoticeable like Yuuri’s freckles, and his mouth took on that heart-shaped thing his fans flipped their shit over. Somehow when Vitya smiled like that, even his eyes somehow looked bluer. Yuri let himself get lost in these details, letting his eyes roam over Vitya’s face like he’d done with Yuuri and  _ fucking hell. _ He really was on the fast track to becoming a sap, wasn’t he?

He didn’t think it was possible to give less than a shit as he gave into the urge to pull Viktor in to meet his lips. He sighed into the kiss, melting into it and molding his body against the older man’s. Viktor cradled Yuri’s head in his strong hands, giving as good as he got. Viktor was the type to hone on the things that made his partners’ toes curl. Nibbling on the fullest point of Yuri’s lower lip, curling his tongue to drag just right over Yuri’s, tugging Yuri’s hair back enough to make the breath catch in his throat, whimpering into Yuri’s mouth - Vitya knew all of these things would drive Yuri insane and he attacked them with a focus that made Yuri feel overwhelmed in the absolute best way. 

Yuuri lay on the bed, his head at the pillows as he watched Viktor and Yuri in amusement. Yuri had yet to move from the spot he’d flopped onto to begin with, and both his and Vitya’s legs dangled off the bed, but neither seemed to care as they got carried away, making out like teenagers- well, Yuri  _ was _ a teenager, but whatever. 

Yuuri cleared his throat. “You two want to come up here? It’d probably be more comfortable.” He said with a laugh.

Yuri was too tired, his limbs too heavy, to do much more than wiggle-worm his way up the bed as Vitya and Katsudon laughed at his antics. Viktor sat up, tugging the blanket out from under Yuri and Yuuri with effort. He shook his head at his lazy lovers as he lay down, covering them up. He smiled down at Yuri who pursed his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor raised a brow.

“I need my own pillow at some point.” Yuri huffed.

“We can get one for you tomorrow, or you could just bring the one from your apartment?” Yuuri suggested as Yuri hummed.

“I should probably go back to the apartment for a bit anyway. I’ve only been there long enough to feed Potya and change his litter box. I miss him.” Yuri frowned, turning and wrapping his arm around Yuuri, setting his forehead against the older man’s arm.

“Well,” Viktor started hesitantly, “Potya could stay here too, you know?” Yuri whipped around, looking at Viktor incredulously, and Viktor bit his lip. “Just while you’re here. I love animals. Yuuri loves animals. Neither of us are allergic. Right?” He cut to Yuuri, continuing at Katsudon’s nod. “It’s just an idea. So you don’t have to miss him, and you don’t have to be far from your dedushka.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Yuri said hopefully, smiling as both Viktor and Yuuri nodded. He really did miss his cat, and Potya was a playfully, little shit. He’d love Viktor and Yuuri. He’d love Dedushka. Hell, he’d love Makkachin. He’d just grab a few essentials from his apartment for the rest of his grandfather’s stay.

Yuuri turned toward him, resting his forehead against Yuri’s own as Vitya wrapped his arms around both of them. They settled in, lazily running their hands over one another. Yuri kissed Katsudon sweetly, turned as best he could to give a matching kiss to Vitya, and let his eyes drift closed.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deda - shorted version of "Dedushka"  
> Dedulya - term of endearment, form of "Dedushka"
> 
> Next: What does Dedushka want to talk to Yuri about?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEW, LADDIES. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this chapter! I've been working on a slew of fic requests (which I haven't even finished them all. Whoops!), so Finally took a breather for a few weeks, but I'm back! 
> 
> I'm sorry.

Sitting down across Dedushka at the little cafe so early in the morning was...well, it was tiring. His grandfather had always been an early riser, a man so used to waking up at the asscrack of dawn, a habit that apparently bled into his vacation days. The man didn’t know a thing about sleeping in, and it was a fucking travesty.

Yuri yawned as he blearily looked around, thinking about the great morning he’d had so far.

He’d woken up to fingers carding through his hair and gentle kisses pressed to his nose. Viktor had smiled sweetly, informing him that his alarm was going off under the pillow they shared. Honestly, Yuri was constantly surprised by the man, though he refused to admit it out loud. At least not with people around. What kind of person wakes up so damn early and  _ isn’t _ pissed off? Certainly not him, and certainly not Katsudon, if the irritated grunting and the alligator rolling to cover his head with his pillow was any indication. 

He huffed amusedly at the memory, absently noting that his dedushka was watching him with a fond smile. He shook himself off, squaring his shoulders.

“You mentioned yesterday that you wanted to talk to me about something?” He asked, and his grandfather’s face immediately dropped into something more serious. Yuri furrowed his brows as an odd sense of dread washed over him.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this before, Yura, but it needs to be said.” Dedushka took a deep breath before continuing, leaving Yuri more tense than before. “My heart, it’s...it’s not doing so well. It’s called congestive heart failure. Basically, my heart is so weak, it can’t pump blood to where it needs to go. The doctor said it’s severe even though I only recently started showing symptoms.”

And suddenly Yuri couldn’t breathe. He stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as his grandfather- the only real blood family he had that mattered- continued talking about how it started as fatigue and nausea and dizziness for a little while that he’d just chocked up to stress and age, and within the span of the past few months, quickly progressed to include rapid weight loss and a chest pain that often felt like a fifty-pound weight pushing down on him, which was how the doctors found fluid in his lungs. 

Apparently Dedushka’s doctors have talked about a heart transplant because of just how severe the damage really was, but with his blood type and a bunch of other factors that didn’t quite filter into Yuri’s frozen, panicked mind, it was significantly difficult to find a good match, and the risk of rejection was too high for Dedushka’s liking anyway.  _ Apparently, _ he  _ should _ go in for artery bypass surgery until they find someone suitable, but it might not help all that much with the damage to his actual heart, and his grandfather didn’t want anyone poking and prodding in his chest cavity anyway.

Yuri’s hands gripped into his coffee and he was thankful it was in a ceramic mug rather than a paper to-go cup or it’d be all over the place. He stared blankly at the table before him, struggling to remember what it was like to breathe properly. There wasn’t even a thought in his head beyond a repetitive loop of  _ ‘no, this can’t be happening.’ _

A warm, rough hand settling over his snapped him out of it a bit, and his grandfather was giving him the most heartbreaking smile he’d ever seen. 

“Don’t cry, Yurochka. I swear it’ll be okay.” Deda said, and it was like a rush of grief broke through an unforeseen dam. 

“How can you s-say that?” He demanded, trying to choke back the tears. He didn’t want to do this in front of all the other people in the shop. Why did his grandfather decide to do this in such a public place anyway? At least they were in the back corner where only a few people could eavesdrop, but still. This wasn’t fucking okay. 

“First of all, it  _ will _ be okay. Maybe not right now, and maybe not for a while, but it  _ will. _ I’ve already accepted the inevitable.  _ Death _ is,” Deduska heaved a sad sigh, “it’s inevitable, Yurochka. I don’t  _ want _ to go, but when it’s my time, it’s in God’s hands.” He raised a hand to stave off Yuri’s typical diatribe about just what he thought about God. “And second, I decided to do this in public so it wouldn’t taint Vitya and Yuura’s home with the memory of this negativity.”

So, Yuri’s filter was still shot. Good to know. At least it made sense, and he begrudgingly appreciated the care and thought his grandfather put into it, but  _ still. _ He felt like his heart was lodged in his throat and his eyes burned with the unshed tears he refused to let fall.

“So, you’re just going to accept it? You should get that bypass surgery! Have it taken care of and give yourself more time for them to find a potential donor.” Yuri pleaded and his deda pursed his lips, deflating.

“If I were to have the bypass, there’s a rather good chance I won’t wake up from it. There’s a chance that the time I  _ know _ I have left will be cut short, and I’m not sure I can do that. To me or to you.” He tried to reason, and Yuri shook his head in disbelief.

“But there’s a chance you  _ will _ wake up from it and you can live even longer, have more, have more time w-with me.” Yuri stammered, the threat of tears hitting critical levels. Deda closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as though he was trying to compose himself as well. 

They really should have done this elsewhere.

“My darling boy, you have to prepare for the worst. Whether I do end up having the bypass or I just live out the remainder of my life as is, I will eventually die, and there’s nothing you or I can do about it, as much as I wish it weren’t so.” He looked back at Yuri with a look that begged for understanding and Yuri couldn’t deal with it.

Yuri shoved his hands into his hair, pulling just to feel something,  _ anything, _ other than abject misery. He had the fleeting desire for Viktor and Yuuri at his side, but crushed it down. They didn’t need to be dragged into his despair. 

“I just- I don’t want you to give up so easily, damn it,” he choked out, and his grandfather sighed.

“Yura, it’s  _ bad. _ They’re not even sure they’d be able to find a suitable match in time anyway. I can try my best to change the odds with medication and a healthy diet, but-” He shook his head, taking Yuri’s hand in his and squeezing in a gesture of comfort. “I’m old. I’ve broken many bones, beat skin cancer  _ twice, _ experienced many of the joys life has to offer, and lived long enough to see my grandson grow into someone good and strong and respectable and ambitious, someone who works hard for his success, who isn’t afraid to put in the hard hours to get to where he wants, and isn’t afraid to stand up for himself and what he believes in. I know that whether I’m with you on the sidelines or with you only in heart, you’ll continue to do great things. I’m so  _ proud _ of you, Yurochka.”

Yuri’s face crumpled as the tears fell without his permission. He felt like he was losing his grandfather already, and the man was holding his hand. He gripped back tightly, unwilling to let go of the man who raised him when his parents left without a look back, the man who never made Yuri feel like he was a burden or like he wasn’t good enough for love and care. His  _ agape. _ Never in a million years could Yuri imagine what it would be like without his grandfather around. Sure, he spent a vast majority of the time away from the older man due to living in different time zones, but they still talked often, through their frequent phone conversations and texts. What was he supposed to do without the nostalgic rumbling laugh that made him feel warm inside, or the wealth of knowledge and life advice his grandfather was always ready to dish out when he needed it? What was he supposed to do when he could no longer look forward to seeing the old man every major holiday and when he could visit? What was he supposed to do when the scent of his grandfather or the tone of his voice eventually faded from his memory? 

He was thankful that he’d chosen the seat that faced away from the majority of the other tables. He was sure he looked like a fucking hot mess with his flushed, tear-streaked face and his leaking nose. He wanted to curl in on himself, to shrink himself down, down, down until he was nothing more than speck. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He wanted to throw every table in the shop around in a fit of rage. He wanted to cry until he was engulfed in his own tears.

He closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow. He choked out a ‘thank you’ in between steadying breaths. He slowly pried each of his tight fingers from their grip on the mug. He didn’t think he could stomach anything right now, so he pushed it away with a grimace. He looked at his grandfather, the both of their expressions melancholy and pleading for the other to understand. 

He knew his deda wouldn’t go for the bypass surgery. Nikolai Plisetsky was nothing if not stubborn as a mule when he’d made up his mind, and if it was backed by actual logic, trying to argue with him was like yelling at a brick wall. Besides, Yuri  _ knew _ the older man hated surgery. His grandfather’s body never reacted well to anesthesia, and the risk of something going wrong was always in the forefront of his mind. 

With a heavy heart, Yuri nodded in resignation. Dedushka nodded back, and they left the shop, their table littered with almost-full mugs and uneaten pastries.

“I have plans for lunch today, so how about we meet back at Yuuri and Viktor’s afterward.” His deda suggested as they walked aimlessly along the sidewalk bordering the river. 

Yuri bit his lip, not wanting to leave his grandfather for more than maybe a bathroom break, especially after that bomb had been dropped, but he couldn’t very well say  _ no. _ He had to stop by his apartment to grab some shit anyway, so he silently nodded again, unsure of what would come out if he opened his mouth. His grandfather stopped short, swinging him back around to pull him into a tight hug. 

He melted into it, clinging back as tightly as he was clung to. The tears he’d  _ just _ managed to contain flowed freely once again, soaking Dedushka’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there in the middle of the walkway, but when he resurfaced, his face was dry and his arms hurt when he let go. 

“I love you, Dedulya. You know that, right?” Yuri asked, and his deda’s responding smile was laced with sorrow.

“Of course I know that, Yurochka. I hope you know just how much I love you too.” He gently patted Yuri’s face. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuri answered, and turned around to head in the direction of his apartment.

He hailed a cab and honestly blanked the hell out between when he slammed the car door closed and when they’d pulled up to his building. He paid the cabbie with a short ‘thanks’ before mechanically making his way to his apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Potya mewed, rubbing against his ankles as a hello. Yuri slid to the floor, collecting his cat in his arms and hugging him to his chest. He let himself cry there, alone on the floor of his empty apartment, just him and his cat. He couldn’t help thinking that this is what it would be like if-  _ when _ his grandfather died.

He couldn’t imagine Viktor and Yuuri seeing him through what would undoubtedly be some of the darkest moments of his life. Well, he could see them try. They’d be loving and supportive and  _ there _ and then they’d give up when it got too much, too hard, too impossible to pull him from the depths. When Yuri’s despair and anger and frustration with the situation and, frankly, the world at large was too great that he inevitably turned it on the men he lo- cared for, it would all doubtlessly come crumbling down. 

Besides, they were happy together before him. They’d be happy after him. Even though they seemed happy  _ with _ him, something this heavy was bound to break their threesome back into their default settings. Future Mr. and Mr. Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, and lonely, little Yuri Plisetsky. 

His mind had always created all sorts of scenarios for the future where he’d end up alone, even before his relationship with them, even before Yuuri came into the picture at all. Hell, even when he was a kid, he never truly imagined he’d find anyone who’d stick with him for long besides his grandfather. The trend of thinking he was doomed continued as his mind threw up image after image of Yuuri and Viktor leaving him- whether it was to save their impending marriage, or because the sheen of having a cute, little virgin would eventually wear off, or because Yuri would become too much of a burden on their lives with the weight of his imminent grief.

Thank fuck Potya was such an easy, loving cat. He didn’t protest as Yuri pressed his tear-stained face into his fur. Instead, he purred loudly, licking at the top of Yuri’s head in some sort of weird grooming/comfort thing. Yuri huffed fondly, kissing the fluffball on the top of his head before setting him down.

Yuri sluggishly made his way around his apartment, collecting things he thought he’d need for the next couple of days. He vowed that by the time he got back to Viktor and Yuuri’s, that he would stop fucking crying, and that he’d look normal enough that they wouldn’t suspect anything awry. 

He grabbed his old duffel bag- the one his deduska had gotten him one Christmas and had been carelessly replaced within a year. He packed clothes, his toothbrush (the spare he’d been using just wasn’t cutting it), a couple basic toiletries, his beloved pillow, all of Potya’s shit and Potya himself (fitted in his carrier bag) before calling Viktor. 

After the shortest, most succinct conversation he’d had with the older man in weeks, he hung up with the knowledge that they’d pick him up in less than fifteen minutes. 

He took that time to breathe deep, refusing to give into the sharp tug at his heartstrings that made his eyes well up. He would cry about his grandfather when he no longer had him with him. He  _ had _ to try his level best to just enjoy the time he’d have with, well,  _ everyone. _ His personal doomsday clock was ticking down to an unknown time, and while he had to prepare for  _ that, _ he’d make the best of the present and eat up every single moment he had with Deduska, Viktor and Yuuri.

A sharp knock scared the everloving shit out of him. He answered the door with a fake smile, attempting to bring his heart rate down to a healthy tempo. 

Viktor’s heart-shaped smile dropped as Yuuri immediately shouldered past him with wide, concerned eyes trained on Yuri as he approached hesitantly. Yuuri slid a hand to cup his cheek, bringing Yuri a bit closer as Viktor watched with confusion.

“Are you okay, Yura?” Yuuri asked quietly, and Yuri swallowed thickly against those persistent tears trying to make another fucking appearance. How the hell Yuuri knew something was wrong, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to cry in front of them. Again. 

He pulled back, avoiding the older men’s eyes as he nodded. He didn’t even trust his voice not to waver as they watched him like hawks. He missed the way they frowned at each other as they helped him with his things.

Yuuri beat him to his duffel, and Viktor beat him to his cat and litter box, leaving Yuri with only his pillow to cling to for a distraction. He locked the door behind them, clearing his throat with a soft ‘thank you’ as they made their way down to the car. 

Yuri, uncharacteristically unable to handle the following silence, began talking about everything  _ but _ his dedushka. He talked about how as much as he loved it, it was nice to have a day off from his training. He talked about how much he had missed his cat while he’d been crashing at Viktor and Yuuri’s. He talked about the weather and current events and what he thought about them. It was a rambling stream of bullshit peppered with Yuuri and Viktor’s hums and a few minor contributions to the conversation. 

It was so out of place that if they didn’t know something was wrong before, they  _ had _ to know now, and Yuri wasn’t sure he could stop it at this point. He was in a weird place between feeling too much and feeling too little, like his mind was processing his misery in a way that made him numb. He fucking hated it, but he wasn’t sure feeling too much right now would be much better. 

They arrived at Vitya and Katsudon’s place just in time for Yuri to finish off his point about how he was tired of American politics and their orange president. He shut his mouth so fast, his teeth clicked as they parked. There was a breath of a pause before he got out of the car. He could only imagine that if he stopped for anything, any reason at all, one of them would stop him and make him tell them what was wrong, and he just wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for the beginning of the end.

When they got in, Yuri noted that his deda wasn’t back yet, and quickly distracted himself by introducing Potya to Makkachin. He knelt on the ground with the animals, refusing to meet Viktor and Yuuri’s concerned scrutiny. He huffed a laugh as Potya wove his way through Makkachin’s legs, purring up a storm. Out of the shitstorm today had turned out being, at least his cat got along with Viktor’s dog. Small victories, he supposed.

He tensed when Yuuri knelt beside him, pressing an affectionate kiss into his shoulder. He braced for the confrontation, but after seconds passed in silence, he relaxed. He turned to look at the older man, surprised by the compassion in his eyes. He didn’t even know  _ why _ he was surprised anymore. Yuuri was intuitive and empathetic and cared with his whole being, and it wouldn’t shock Yuri if Katsudon already had an inkling of what was wrong with him. 

Yuri bit his lip before leaning in for a simple kiss- one borne only of affection, with no ulterior motives or desires for it to bloom into something further. It was a kiss that served as a ‘thank you’ for Yuuri not pressing further when he’d brushed the older man off at his apartment. It was a kiss that said ‘I’m so glad I have you, even if only for now.’ At least, that’s what Yuri  _ tried _ to pour into that kiss, but who knows if Yuuri’s empathy was that advanced?

Viktor sat down on the other side of him with his legs crossed, and Yuri gave a matching kiss to him as well. Vitya could have said something, could have cut through Yuri’s semi-crazed, circumlocutory rambling on the way to their apartment. He could have bored those big, blue puppy eyes into him until Yuri cracked instead of the vaguely sad looks he threw Yuri’s way every so often. He smiled against Viktor’s lips at the small peep of surprise he got in response. 

When he pulled away, he lay flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling and contemplating the directions his life has taken thus far and will take in the months to come. He smiled fondly when Katsudon and Vitya lay back as well, catching his hands in theirs. While he was still pretty sure this relationship was doomed, he contented himself with cataloguing the differences in the way they felt, with just basking in their closeness for a little while before things started falling apart. 

\---

Yuri jerked awake at the sound of his dedushka’s hushed voice. 

He didn’t even recall letting his eyes drift shut let alone falling asleep on the floor. He looked around, noting that Yuuri had fallen asleep with him, but Vitya and his grandfather were nowhere to be found. His brows dipped in confusion as he got up and followed the voices to the kitchen, not even pausing this time to eavesdrop. He had neither the patience or fortitude right now. 

“Why didn’t you wake me when you got home?” He demanded, cutting right to the chase as both Dedushka and Viktor jumped. 

“You looked peaceful. I figured I’d let you sleep a bit longer.” His deda admitted, and Yuri scowled at them tiredly, rubbing his eyes furiously to wake himself up.

“You shouldn’t have. You had to have known I would want to be up when you got home.” He shot back, and Viktor’s eyes flew wide with a small smile. He backtracked a bit, blanching at his misstep. “I meant here. When you got  _ here.” _

Dedushka threw Yuri a knowing look, but thankfully decided not to push. “I’m sorry, Yurochka. You’re up now. Are you hungry?”

And  _ fuck, _ he was. He hadn’t been able to stomach anything since before The News, and the reminder than he actually needed food sounded loudly in the quiet kitchen. 

Viktor laughed delightedly, “I guess that answers that. Wanna get pizza?”

_ “Please,” _ Yuri asked, halfway ready to beg. The flash of heat in Vitya’s eyes at his tone was worth the neediness that bled into it. He smiled innocently as the older man turned away to place to order.

Dedushka clapped a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, pulling him in for another hug. Usually, Yuri would jokingly grumble about how embarrassing the old man was and that he wasn’t a baby anymore and  _ jeez, people could see them. _ He no longer felt any desire to do anything but hold the most important man in his life more closely. His grandfather would be returning to Moscow the morning after tomorrow, and Yuri couldn’t help but curse his deda for dropping such a heavy bomb so late in the visit. 

Still, he’d just have to deal, right? There wasn’t much he could do other than plead with the old man to rethink his decision to opt out of bypass surgery. A relatively small risk of death was worth it when the general mortality rate was so low, right? Yuri kept telling himself this shit and all it did was make him sadder. 

He understood that if Dedushka’s heart condition really was as severe as it sounds, that it could possibly give out just from the stress of surgery alone. He understood Deda’s horrible reactions to anesthesia in the past from all the tales regaled by the old man. He understood his grandfather’s fears, and he understood why he was opting out. He understood that his deda was indeed old and had made relative peace with his decision.  _ Yuri _ just didn’t want to accept it. Maybe some day in a few weeks or a few millennia he’d be okay, but today was not that day.

So, for now, he clung to his grandfather and thanked the universe for whatever time it gave them. 

\---

Yuri only curled into bed when Dedushka admitted he needed sleep, that ‘10:45 at night was far past a feeble old man’s bedtime.’ Yuri hadn’t laughed.

Viktor and Yuuri had stayed up with them for some unknown reason, talking with him and his deda about their day (Dedushka thankfully left out his condition- Yuri wanted to inform them when the time was right, and right now, when everyone was happy and calm and things were still in that hopeful, honeymoon-ish phase, wasn’t exactly opportune). They chatted about this and that, about how they really enjoyed having his deda around, and that he was welcome back anytime. Yuri’s heart lodged in his throat at the offer, in both the best and worst way. He could only pray to the cosmos that his grandfather would be okay long enough for another visit.

He was so emotionally exhausted, he fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor Yura. He really does deserve a break sometime, yeah? Unfortunately that's not quite on the horizon just yet. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little angst fest <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Haha. Hahahaha. I said I was back last chapter, and then it took me over a month to finish this chapter. I am the worst and I'm so sorry. Just know that no matter what, I'm not abandoning this story! It's my baby <3

Yuri woke sometime before sunrise for the sixth time in as many hours and decided he might as well get up for the day. He’d had fitful sleep anyway, and no matter how many times he tried to settle further into the sheets or cuddle up on Viktor or Yuuri, he still woke up within a couple hours of tossing and turning. His dreams were comprised of loss, of both his grandfather and his relationship. His dreams even twisted all the despair and bullshit to incorporate his career and the more tenuous friendships he held with just about everyone else as well, leaving him entirely alone and a failure at everything and to everyone he held dear. Needless to say, he didn’t get much actual rest.

So, he quietly snuck out of bed and fed Potya and Makkachin before setting out to make the strongest coffee Viktor had ‘secretly’ stashed away behind all of Yuuri’s tins of tea. Once it was brewing, he leaned forward on the counter with his head resting on his crossed arms. He stretched and breathed deeply, slowly, trying to shake the exhaustion and melancholy clinging to him like a limpet. Less than twenty-four hours since The News and he was already weary of feeling like this.

He startled when two strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, a line of heat molded to his back as kisses were pressed into his tense shoulders. He turned his head and sent a fragile smile to Viktor who lazily smiled back. Vitya nuzzled into the side of his face, a gesture of affection typical of the older man during the early daylight hours, and Yuri luxuriated in it a moment before straightening, turning around and pulling Vitya in for a tight, cathartic hug.

The older man froze for a moment before curling into it, squeezing Yuri just as tight. Yuri knew this was out completely of the norm for him. He wasn’t one to initiate a lot of the sweeter moments he shared with Viktor and Yuuri, still awkward and unsure of his place among them. He was more cautious due to the newness of whatever it was they were doing, and he wasn’t quite comfortable with the sappier side of things anyway. He knew Vitya would be suspicious by this sudden change of character, but he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care when he was held so lovingly, with Viktor’s fine hands running over his back comfortingly. He hadn’t even realized he was shaking until Vitya gently shushed him, squeezing tighter.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Vitya murmured into his ear, and  _ god, _ was Yuri tempted. He wanted to, but he just  _ couldn’t. _ He couldn’t, in good consciousness, single-handedly destroy the peace before his own mental state calmed down, before he felt strong enough to weather the storm just on the horizon. Still, maybe letting the older man know something was, in fact, wrong wouldn’t be so bad.

He nodded and pressed a kiss into the crook of Vitya’s neck and shoulder. “I know. Thank you. I just- I’m just not ready.”

“Okay,” Viktor whispered simply, pulling back just far enough to capture Yuri’s lips in a sweet kiss. Yuri felt some of the tension coiled between his shoulder blades loosen as he wrapped his arms around Vitya’s neck, keeping him close. He wanted to stay in the shelter of Viktor’s strong, protective arms until everything passed, until he could wake up from this horrific fever dream he was trying to convince himself he was trapped in. He wanted Yuuri to join them, to protect his other side, caging him in until he was safe from the outside world and all the bullshit life liked to throw at him with from time to time.

Parents didn’t want him? Check. Losing his grandmother at a young age to a car accident? Check. Being so poor for years that he and Dedushka struggled to eat, let alone keep a roof over their heads? Check. Having to move to an entirely different timezone than his only family to maintain his career, losing  _ years _ of time with him? Check. Falling in love with two unattainable men? While that was different now, it still counted considering how long he’d pined, so…he’d count that as a check. Realizing he’ll probably lose his grandfather within the year? Check. Realizing he’ll probably lose the relationship he’d  _ finally _ managed to worm his way into? Check.

He swallowed thickly around the lump crawling up his throat. He was  _ not _ going to cry in front of Viktor, damn it. Or Yuuri, for that matter. Not again. It was embarrassing enough that he’d cried in front of them at all. 

He took a few deep breaths before pulling away with one last gentle kiss to Viktor’s nose. He stood there for a moment, enjoying the way the flush suffused through Vitya’s face before turning to pour himself a cup of coffee (with a metric fuckton of sugar and a splash of milk) in the biggest thermos Viktor and Yuuri owned. (He was pretty sure the one he’d grabbed was supposed to be actually used for soup, but fuck it. He needed a pick-me-up.)

Viktor looked between him and the thermos silently, concern written in the line forming between his brows. He pursed his lips disapprovingly but said nothing as he poured himself a cup in a regular mug. He probably knew Yuri wouldn’t listen to any of his protests about caffeine and sugar intake anyway (that was a correct assumption). 

Yuri shuffled into the living room, and was unsurprised to see his Deda up and about already. Even when he’d gone to bed late, his internal clock always had him up at daybreak. The man seriously needed to let himself rest, especially with recent revelations, but that would never happen. His deda was nothing if not a man of routine so alas, here he was, comfortably melting into Viktor’s blue contemporary couch, watching the news. Yuri stared for a moment, subtly taking a picture with his phone so that he’d never forget this small moment, before sitting down beside the older man. He smiled tiredly in greeting before turning to his phone.

Looking at the picture, an idea sprung to Yuri’s mind. He didn’t have many pictures of his dedushka. A fucking crime, really, that he’d never really thought to capture more moments with him before now, but he’d always (immaturely) thought he’d have an almost limitless amount of time with his grandfather. He never thought he’d have to face his deda’s mortality before he even hit twenty. 

He chugged his coffee (YOLO), patted his grandfather’s knee, and popped back up, looking for Viktor.

Yuri found him in their bedr-  _ Viktor and Yuuri’s _ bedroom, laying over Yuuri in a loving embrace, Yuuri’s lethargic hands carding through Viktor’s silvery hair, and it was...bittersweet. A tiny thread of jealousy marred the genuine fondness he felt as he watched them. He shook it off as he hesitantly stepped toward them. They hadn’t even noticed he’d entered the room. 

He bit his lip as he awkwardly cleared his throat, lips twitching amusedly as they both jumped.

“Oh, Yura! I didn’t hear you come in.” Viktor laughed, unfazed and unbothered and the ease in which he smiled at Yuri made something settle back into place within him.

Yuuri groaned as he (literally) pushed Viktor to the other side of the bed, reaching toward Yuri with what he could only describe as ‘grabby hands.’ Yuuri looked so fucking adorable, his hair a wild mess, eyes bleary as he huffed impatiently when Yuri took maybe two seconds too long to respond. He was always a needy, pushy little shit in the mornings, and today was no different. Yuri rolled his eyes, trying his level best not to be charmed as Yuuri made a noise of deep contentment when he filled the space between those open arms. 

Yuuri immediately pulled Yuri close to him, cuddling him into the sweetest oblivion. Yuri hated (re: loved) how easily he was disarmed by these two idiots. If he was a cat, he would have started purring as soon as Yuuri’s fingers began gently combing through his hair, mirroring what he did for Viktor. Yuri’s arms slipped under Yuuri’s back, nestling deeper in the older man’s arms. Viktor lay beside them, his fingers joining Yuuri’s in Yuri’s hair, and Yuri was pretty sure he was  _ this _ close to dissolving under their touches.

“So, I know we all have training scheduled, but...maybe we could skip it today?” Yuri murmured into Yuuri’s neck, only loud enough to reach his lovers’ ears.

Viktor hummed inquisitively, “might I ask why?”

Yuri buried his face deeper against Yuuri’s chest as he stiltedly admitted, “I just- I want us all to take Deda out. If that’s cool with you guys. It’s his last day here. Also, I realized I only have, like, two pictures of him and I just...want to make up for the lack?” At the contemplative silence, he tugged himself from Yuuri’s arms, rushing to add, “you don’t have to. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

He only backed up  _ maybe _ a foot before one of Yuuri’s hands shot up, sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him down into a tender kiss. When they broke away, Yuuri rubbed his nose against Yuri’s affectionately. Viktor apparently wanted in on the love too because when Yuri sat back, he was on him, leaning over Yuuri to cup his cheeks in large, warm hands, pulling Yuri until he twisted around and into a slow, deep kiss, and Yuri’s breath grew shaky at the wave of emotion he felt for these two.  _ God, would he always feel like this? _

He really hoped he was wrong about them being doomed. He really hoped he didn’t have to give them up.

“It’s not a stupid idea. Not at all.” Yuuri said when Yuri’s lips separated from Vitya’s. “Considering Viktor’s technically my coach, and he’s his own coach, I’m sure we can get out of training for a day,” he added playfully. “Now get off of me so we can get dressed.”

Yuri shared a look with Viktor, chuckling as they got up. Yuri sent a text to Yakov and Lilia, pulling on his most comfortable clothes, rooting through his duffel to find the plain, old, weathered hoodie his deda had given him years ago. Once dressed, he quickly pulled his hair into a ponytail, and went to tell his dedushka about the day’s plans. 

The old man smiled fondly at the familiar hoodie, acquiescing without much of a fight, and soon after everyone was ready, they were all piling into Viktor’s car. 

They grabbed a quick breakfast, then went to two of the places Yuri remembered that his grandfather had always wanted to visit- the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, and the State Hermitage Museum. His deda had mentioned them both in passing earlier in the week, commenting on how maybe the next time he visited Yuri, they could go. Yuri had agreed at the time, but that was before The News was dropped. Fuck that. They were doing  _ both. Today. _

As much as Yuri didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know how much time he had left with his grandfather, and he was going to make every single moment of the finite time he had left as amazing as possible. He wanted his dedushka to have absolutely zero regrets before... _ before. _ Yuri couldn’t even think the words without the burning of tears prickling behind his eyes.

He ignored his grandfather’s protests about paying for his admission, meals and souvenirs,quickly but gently cutting him off with a simple ‘please let me.’ Honestly, the man had done literally everything in his power, and some things well beyond his reach, for Yuri growing up without question, without hesitation, without expecting a single thing in return. This was one small thing Yuri could do for his grandfather. One simple, fun day with the people he cared for most in the world. 

He snuck as many pictures of his deda as he could- catching a moment of reverent wonder as they entered the church, bright smiles as he talked to Viktor about the medieval architecture, studying the art on the walls, knelt and praying, laughing in the back of the car at something funny Yuuri said, playfully glaring at Yuri’s camera as they ate lunch, pulling a silly face as they walked to the museum, another look of awe as they stood outside the museum, one of his grandfather standing in front with a huge, childlike smile, one of him standing with his grandfather (he made a mental reminder to thank Yuuri later), and a collection of shots inside the museum. He even got a few selfies with his deda before the old man exasperatedly told him to put the phone away and  _ enjoy the moment. _

He’d laughed, but listened without a fight. He listened to his grandfather talk about history and art and sculptures and culture. He memorized the way the old man’s eyes crinkled up and lit from within, the way he gestured wildly when he got particularly excited, the cadence and tone of his voice. Things he would grasp at desperately long after his deda was gone.

They rounded the day off with dinner at some Italian restaurant nearby, splurging on a three-course meals rather than his grandfather’s propensity toward the ‘eat an entree and go’ thing he usually did. (He’d sent an approving smile at his deda’s choice of pappa al pomodoro, herb-crusted cod and sorbet, earning him an eye roll and knowing smile. He didn’t care. As long as his deda was making healthier choices, and maybe- just  _ maybe- _ prolonging his lifespan just a bit more, he was happy.)

(So focused on his dedushka, he missed the perplexed, concerned frowns shared between Yuuri and Viktor each time Yuri needed to pause to collect himself, and every time his deda had to pause to catch his breath, and every time Yuri’s smile turned melancholic and wistful. He missed the way Viktor’s hand twitched toward him, and the way Yuuri pulled his fiance away to give him time with his deda. He missed the thoughtful gaps in conversation, so lost in his own contemplation and introspection. He missed the hushed, speculative conversations between his lovers as they observed him and his grandfather. Still, for the most part, they were present and supportive and only made the day better by unknowingly pulling Yuri back from falling too deep in his distress, and being two more interested faces for his grandfather to talk to, and keeping the day lighthearted and fun in a way Yuri wasn’t sure he could’ve done on his own.)

It was a good day. No, it was a great day. Yuri would even go out on a limb and say it was a  _ perfect _ day. He was delighted in being able to do this for his dedulya, and felt like he was on more stable ground knowing he’d at the very least helped cross a couple more things off his grandfather’s bucket list. 

When they got back ho-  _ Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment _ (he really needed to chill with all these little, domestic flubs), his deda was exhausted. He pulled Yuri into a tight, warm hug, murmuring his thanks, love and appreciation into Yuri’s ear, then pulled Yuuri and Viktor goodnight hugs as well. Yuri wouldn’t admit it later, but he had to pinch himself to get rid of the dopey smile. He  _ loved _ that his grandfather liked them so damn much. 

As soon as his grandfather retired to bed, the reality of his departure the next day hit him like a ton of bricks. He thanked Vitya and Yuuri sincerely, heavily, ignoring the worry overtaking their faces as he kissed them quickly, a little too hard, a little too desperate, before beating a quick retreat to the bathroom. 

He took a scalding shower to try and physically wash off the dread, as if he could remove the bits of despair laced in the tense lines of his muscles if he just scrubbed hard enough. He broke his own rule he’d just made the previous day of not crying until his deda passed away, yet again suspended between apathy and hypersensitive feeling as he watched them run down the drain with the water.

Maybe he was being too dramatic about it all. He didn’t think he was, but he was aware he’s a creature of extremes. He couldn’t recall how anyone else he knew reacted to distressing news, or the impending loss of a loved one. He didn’t know if it was normal to feel like you’ve already lost someone who’s only in the next room. He didn’t know what it said about him that he was already grieving someone who had yet to die. He didn’t want to ask around to find out. 

At some point, he came back out of his introspection to find the water much cooler, his face dry and tilted toward the ceiling. He quickly snapped the fuck out of it, rinsing the last remains of soap from his person, climbing out to dry...only to realize he’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes. 

He rolled his eyes at himself, wrapping a towel around himself. He peeked into the hall to make sure no one was there to witness him dashing into Viktor and Yuuri’s room before booking it. 

No one was there. They must still be in the kitchen or something. He didn’t know. Whatever.

He made a snap decision, refusing to think about it too much before finding a pair of Yuuri’s sleep pants and one of Viktor’s comfiest sweaters. He shrugged into them, sliding into bed. 

Crying, paired with the sudden and swift caffeine crash, was super fucking taxing, and he sleep dragged him under despite wanting to stay awake until Vitya and Yuuri came to bed. The last conscious thought he had was that he hoped that tomorrow wouldn’t be the last time he ever saw Dedulya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the massive swaths of angst. This whole story is a damn rollercoaster.
> 
> Next up: Dedushka leaves, Viktor and Yuuri have an inkling of what's wrong, Yuri still doesn't know how to fucking communicate, and a surprise visitor makes things interesting.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy! This chapter only took me about ~a week to get out! I'm so proud of myself (given my past track record).

After zombie-ing his way through the morning, still somewhere in the zone of feeling too much and too little, and after the emotional turmoil that was watching his Dedushka board that damned plane, Yuri felt...lost.

The two weeks go like this: After he moved his stuff back to his own apartment (much to the affected chagrin of his lovers), he did nothing,  _ nothing, _ but sleep, train and remember to choke down food that had started to taste like cardboard the day his Deda left. He woke up at the asscrack of dawn, unrested and generally feeling like shit, chugged down a mug of coffee to wake himself up, went for a run that lasted until he almost couldn’t catch his breath, feed Potya, sit and stare at the wall for a minute or twenty, maybe call his Deda if he was home, go to training, smile weakly at Viktor and Yuuri’s concerned faces, ignore them as he works through his routine, probably falls a couple of times but doesn’t really care, kind of avoids Yuuri and Viktor’s invitation to come home with them, go to his lonely ass apartment, watch TV, maybe cry or something, maybe shower depending on how greasy his hair is starting to look, eat dinner, feed Potya again, go to bed.  _ Lather, rinse, repeat. _

He  _ knew _ he was being an asshole, especially to Viktor and Yuuri who honestly had no idea what was up with him. He’d answer their texts every so often to let them know he was alive, but he wasn’t making the effort he should be to go see them outside the ice rink.

How could he? He may never have been depressed before, but he sure as hell was now. How could he go over there when all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and will himself to wake up from this waking nightmare? How could he go over there and accept the love he’s sure they want to dole out on him when he can hardly stomach the idea of being touched right now? How could he go over there and let them see his red-ringed eyes and his greasy hair and his sallow skin and smell is stinky armpits and breath (because  _ fuck, _ he’d forgotten to brush his teeth for the third day in a row)? 

He couldn’t. That’s the answer. He couldn’t, in good consciousness, force them to see this mess he’s become. 

He never could handle anything in the realm of ‘sad’ well. 

Anger was comfortable. He knew how to rage, and he knew when to throw a fucking fit and when to channel it into improving himself somehow. Anger was an almost constant. Being told he was too young, too pretty, too this, too  _ that, _ it chafed at his nerves until he exploded. It was something he was used to.

Being happy made him, well… Honestly, it made him suspicious. He was always ready for his house of cards to blow down, and he was almost never prepared for pure, unadulterated happiness to sweep over him. Winning gold was blinding and invigorating and was the effort of years of hard, intensive work. He  _ earned _ that medal. True, out-of-left-field happiness was a foreign concept to him. Viktor and Yuuri accepting him into their relationship, treating him as an equal, genuinely caring out him? It made no sense. He didn’t work for that. He didn’t  _ earn _ that, so how? Yuri was still trying to figure that out.

But  _ sad? _ Sad was not something Yuri could handle for long. It was so illogical and so  _ terrible. _ Sadness was a never-ending undertow that just kept pulling you under over and over and over again until you either drowned or found the strength to leave on your own. 

Yuri was drowning.

\---

A sudden  _ bang _ at his front door woke him from his slumber, scaring the living bejeezus out of him. He panted through the panic, willing himself to get a damned grip. It was just someone at the door. Damn. 

He looked at his phone.  _ 7:53pm. _ He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He looked around blearily at his half-eaten dinner, now cold and semi-gelatinous on the TV tray, at Potya curled up on coffee table, at the state of his living room, riddled with empty Chinese containers and a stack of empty pizza boxes. He grimaced when his surprise visitor banged on the door again.

He frowned down at himself, brushing his hair back from his eyes, pulling it into a haphazard messy bun to try and hide the oily state of his hair. There was nothing to do about the bags under his eyes or the deadness in them, so he shrugged, wrenching the door open...only for his heart to hit the floor.

“V-Viktor. Yu-Yuuri. What are you guys doing here?” Yuri asked, strained as a twist of nausea settles low in his stomach. The looks on his lovers’ faces had him shrinking in on himself, guilty and ashamed of his current state. His eyes immediately hit the ground as he blocked them from entering his apartment.

“Why don’t you let us in, Yura?” Yuuri asked gently, and Yuri feels even guiltier. Yuri did  _ not _ deserve either of them, and he definitely didn’t deserve the endearing, little diminutive. 

“I just… My apartment is a wreck right now. Maybe call before you come over?” His voice is a bit short, had a bit more bite at the end, and Viktor scowls.

“We called  _ eight times. _ You weren’t answering! You’ve been avoiding us for almost two weeks now, and we don’t even know what we did!” Viktor looks like he’s on the verge of crying, and Yuri wants the entire ground to swallow him up, for Hell’s fire to reach through the cracks in the Earth and drag him down where he belongs. He  _ never _ wanted to see what a teary Viktor looks like.

He swallows thickly, eyes clenched for a moment. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.” He says flatly.

“Please let us in?” Viktor asked, deploying the quickest way for Yuri to say yes- using that small, sad voice that doesn’t belong  _ anywhere _ near Viktor’s vocal chords.

Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Don’t say a word about the mess.”

Yuuri’s lips pursed, concern written on his face as they enter Yuri’s apartment. Both his and Viktor’s eyes flew wide at the sty Yuri had let his apartment become. They’d seen his apartment before- a little clutter here and there, his books an unsystematic mess on his shelves, his clothes haphazardly strewn around his hamper because he didn’t care enough to make sure they always made it in, maybe a load of dishes in the sink with more on the counter. But never like  _ this. _ This was a very obvious lack of taking care of himself. This was a sticky spot on the hardwood floor because Yuri’d spilled a bit of pop and hadn’t cared enough to clean it up. This was every counter space in his kitchen covered in dirty dishes and cups. This was an acrid, rotten sent under the incense Yuri had clearly burned to but the stink down. This was...shocking.

Yuuri’s wide eyes flew to Yuri a moment before he pulled the younger man into his arms. “Yura, what’s going on with you?”

Yuri didn’t put his arms around Yuuri, no matter how badly he wanted to. He just trembled like a leaf in the wind, choking down the urge to cling to Yuuri so hard, they could meld together and it wouldn’t be close enough. His breathing became shaky as he gave in to the urge to press his nose to the crook of Yuuri’s neck, subtly inhaling the scent of one of the men he loved. He hadn’t been close enough in  _ two weeks. _ He was going to get his fix today.

And then Viktor came up behind him, effectively caging him between two, and Yuri was holding onto every bit of sanity he had left to keep him from crying right then and there. Viktor didn’t even mention the faint body odor coming off of him, just pressed his body along the back of Yuri’s like it was nothing.

“What’s going on with you, baby?” Viktor echoed his fiance and Yuri practically choked on his own tongue at the sweetness in his tone.

“I-it’s nothing,” Yuri responded, and hid his face further into Yuuri’s neck.

“Yura, it’s quite obviously  _ not _ nothing. If you don’t want to talk to us, you should find  _ someone _ to talk about it,” Yuuri said, a bit pained.

Yuri shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

Viktor sighed, detaching from their little cuddle, making Yuri feel immediately bereft. Yuuri backed up as well, bringing his hands up to cup Yuri’s jaw.

“You know you can come to us. You’re not alone anymore.” Yuuri whispered, and god _ damn _ it, here came the waterworks. Unbidden and unwanted, hot tears like liquid fire ran down his burning cheeks. He tried to turn away, to hide himself away from Yuuri’s heartbroken eyes, mirroring Viktor’s beside them, but Yuuri wasn’t having it. He brushed the tears away with his thumbs, pressing kisses to Yuri’s nose, forehead, even his damp cheeks.

Yuri was overwhelmed, the desire to hide away from his lovers’ searching eyes, and forcefully pulled away. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, turning away to grab his trash can, picking up the collection of trash he’d unwittingly accumulated as a distraction. No one said anything as Yuuri and Viktor silently joined him in the work. 

\---

It was later, when the apartment was back to something more normal, that Yuri had found the will to shower again. 

He looked at himself in the mirror beforehand and almost cringed away from the reflection. He looked worse than he thought  _ and Viktor and Yuuri still hadn’t run away from him. _ He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he hadn’t even thought to shower for the last few days, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

He sighed as the water ran down his chest and shoulders, slowly loosening the tension built up there. He felt better than he had in almost two weeks now.

Maybe he should just say ‘fuck it’ and spend time with his lovers. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to let them in. A bit. They don’t need to be dragged into the undertow with him, but maybe Yuri could let them dip their toes into the water.

When he was done, he toweled off and cursed himself (again) for his almost constant forgetfulness. He forgot to grab a different pair of clothes. Nevermind the fact that almost none of his clothes were clean, he still should have brought something in with him. He sighed, wrapping the towel securely around him, hoping neither of his lovers would catch him.

Of course, as soon as he exited the bathroom, he was stopped by a sharp gasp.

He whipped around, and Viktor’s eyes are wide, stuck on the way Yuri’s ribs were starting to protrude, on the sharper juts of his hips, on the thinned out stretch of his arms and legs. Yuri knew how he looked. He’d only eaten until he was full for the last two weeks, and considering he was rarely hungry lately, he’d been dropping weight. He’d choked down enough food so that he never felt shaky or weak, but that still wasn’t enough to keep the thin layer on body fat on his frame. Between the paucity in his appetite and his constant growing, he’d started looking a bit more skeletal rather than his normal ‘slender.’

Yuri ran. Or, he tried to. He didn’t want to see the judgment and disgust in Viktor’s eyes, and he definitely didn’t want to subsequent rejection that would undoubtedly come after getting a good look at him, but of course the older man couldn’t just let him go. Viktor caught him by the wrist, whirling him around to to meet Viktor’s surprisingly soft, caring eyes. Yuri felt a lump catch in his throat.

“Yura…” Viktor said, and Yuri’s name had never been said so despairingly, and Yuri was starting to get sick of seeing a sad Viktor. It just wasn’t normal to see such a vibrant, jovial, sunny Viktor so despondent and worried, the lines of concern written in the lines of his face, making him appear much older than he ever had before. It twisted guiltily in Yuri’s stomach. “Let us stay the night tonight.”

Yuri’s eyes flew wide. They’d never stayed over before. Hell, they’d rarely visited his apartment before. Any time they all did something together, it was either at the rink or their apartment or out and about. They’d never even seen his bedroom before.

Noting his hesitation, Viktor's hand slid down to interlace their fingers. “Please,” he asked softly, and Yuri was weak against those big blues boring into him. 

“I guess. Let me just...clean up a bit in there.” He responded awkwardly. He pressed a spontaneous, little kiss to the back of Viktor’s hand, reveling in the sweet smile he was rewarded. He gave Vitya’s hand one last squeeze before beating a hasty retreat for his bedroom, stopping short when he found Yuuri already in there on his bed, making himself at home.

“What the hell?” Yuri asked, exasperated and irritated as Yuuri looked shocked, a mimicry of Viktor’s reaction to his body. He ignored it, throwing on the last pair of sweatpants he had along with the last shirt. He especially ignored the way it hung from his figure. “What the hell are you even doing in here?"

“Well, when you were in the shower, I realized that we hadn’t cleaned every room, so I figured I could help out in here.” Yuuri admitted as he raised onto his elbows, sheepishly adding, “I didn’t really think to stop and ask you. I’m sorry, Yura.”

Yuri heaved a great sigh, looking around. It  _ did _ look better, even if Yuri was going to have to accept being almost perpetually embarrassed because of it. 

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, climbing into bed. He was going to leave a bit of space. But Yuuri wasn’t having any of that. Laying with his head on the older man’s shoulder, Yuri began to shake again.  _ Goddamn it. _ He needed to stop being so weak in front of them, but he was constantly feeling raw, like every day he was expecting the call from the hospital saying his deda had passed away and  _ Yuri wasn’t there. _

He knew he couldn’t just drop everything and leave. There was no real expiration date stamped on his dedushka’s heart, so unless things went south fast and he ended up in the hospital, Yuri had no idea when it would happen. It felt like a fucking time bomb rigged to a detonator in the hands of someone he couldn’t trust. He couldn’t trust Father Time, and he couldn’t trust Mother Nature and he definitely couldn’t trust God. They’re all actively screwing him right now by making the only family he had left sick to the point of imminent death. 

Still, that wasn’t enough for him to be able to ghost for months on end. Deda wouldn’t want that. He’d probably bitch the whole time about how unnecessary it was that Yuri was there, and that (for now), he was  _ fine, _ and that Yuri would be throwing away his career just to watch an old man age. He knew his dedushka would fight for him to come back to St. Petersburg and to continue on with his life as if nothing had happened. 

He had yet to tell Deda that he’d been avoiding his lovers. He can only imagine the disappointment on the old man’s face. He’d give Yuri a lecture about how love and relationships require communication or they’ll rot away. Yeah, he  _ knew _ that, and still his mind had decided it was already going to rot anyway. From the inside because of Yuri’s bullshit rather than outside forces. He was just fulfilling his own prophecies, really. But still, the image of Deda’s disappointment was enough to shake loose some of the black vines gripping his heart.

As soon as Viktor’s knee hit the bed, Yuri reached back, pulling the older man down with an  _ oof! _ He kissed Yuuri’s nose before rolling over, nestling into Viktor, soaking in the contact with renewed vigor.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, and suddenly he was squeezed tighter between them, kisses and caresses both pressed to his clothed skin, to every immediately available point of contact, and Yuri finally let the tears he’d choked down for two weeks flow. 

It was fucking ugly and mortifying and if he wasn’t being shushed and kissed and  _ loved, _ he would probably lock himself in his closet until they left. Okay, maybe not, but the abject humiliation was almost too much to bear. 

Still, Viktor and Yuuri whispered reassurances between each kiss, most of which Yuri couldn’t handle what with his mind drowning in the relief that came with just  _ letting go. _ They brushed their fingers through his damp hair, gently working the knots out. Viktor’s fingers traced over the edges and curves of his face, reverent and sad, and Yuri wanted to take every ounce of emotional pain from Viktor’s mind even if it only made his own ocean that much deeper. Yuuri’s arm was wrapped around Yuri’s waist, pulling him back until he was laid flush against the older man. Yuuri kissed and nuzzled into the space between his shoulder blades, telling Yuri how much they needed him and how scared they were for him and  _ please don’t shut us out _ and  _ gods, we’ve missed you _ and  _ please come back. _

Yuri didn't quite remember when he passed out. He just remembered crying until his exhausted mind lost the battle between waking world and his dreamscapes.

\---

Waking up was probably the worst decision his body could have possibly made.

Yuri was groggy as all hell, and honestly, he thought  _ actually _ being run over by a dump truck would feel better than just feeling like he did. At least if it had actually happened, he’d be put back under with medications to help him sleep. And  _ yikes, _ Yuri did  _ not _ like that train of thought. 

It jolted him, still tired but not despairing (for once in a some time) as he rolled out of bed with a groan.  _ Where the hell have they gone? _

The answer to the question was answered as soon as he opened his bedroom door. He stood there, a little bone-tired, a little stupid as he watched Yuuri and Viktor dance around each other in the kitchen, clearly making some elaborate breakfast. It smelled  _ divine, _ an odd mix of egg and meat and dill overlaying...was that  _ miso? _

Confused but curious, Yuri shuffled into the kitchen with a great, big yawn. Two beautiful faces spun to meet his, and good god, did they sleep in their clothes? 

As he sat down at the little table he had off to the side, he studied his lovers. Both of their outfits were frankly, a mess, skewed and wrinkled, matched with tousled hair on one side, the other matted more closely to the sided they slept on. Yuri watched in amusement as they set down a plate, a bowl and a cup in front of him before doing the same for themselves. Apparently they were having Russian  _ and _ Japanese breakfast today. 

“Thank you,” Yuri smiled at them softly, and dug in. And  _ wow, _ how had he not realized how hungry he was? He ate voraciously, forgetful of the fact that maybe he  _ shouldn’t _ eat like an actual pig in front of his boyfriends(? He really needed to sort out acceptable labels at some point. He was a bit occupied with stuffing his face at the moment). 

When he resurfaced, he found he was being laughed at, but instead of being indignant or embarrassed or whatever, he sheepishly smiled back with a shrug, citing their good cooking for that little display. The pride that shone from their faces was adorable.

Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but was cut of by the sudden chorus from “D.A.N.C.E.” by Justice blasting from his phone.  _ Chris Giacometti. _ Yuri still didn’t know how he loved that damned song so much after a decade, but whatever. Viktor answered the call with a bright smile.

“Chris! Hello! What’s up?” Viktor asked, tacking on a “you’re on speakerphone, by the way” as an afterthought.

“I could ask you the same, you bad boy,” Chris’ voice lilted from the phone and Yuri and Yuuri looked at the phone in bewilderment, but then immediately relaxed when remembering who was talking.

Viktor chuckled, “what do you mean?”

“I mean your and Yuuri’s new beau.” Chris sing-songed and Yuri scowled at the phone. While he didn’t mind Chris most of the time, he’d always been a gossip (though thankfully not as bad as Yuuri’s friend-  _ Oh no). _ “I heard through the grapevine that you’re both dating little Yuri Plisetsky, and I just  _ have _ to know if it’s true.”

Yeah, Yuri would be cool with melting into the floor right about now, thanks. He sunk further in his chair as Viktor nervously smiled at him with Yuuri mirroring it beside him. Yuri's eyes narrowed threateningly.

“Let me, ah, call you back-”

“No, wait! Before you go, I’m in town for the weekend and want to see you. The four of us can grab dinner tomorrow at that swanky, little bistro we always go to. Text me about it later, darling.  _ Au revoir.” _ And then Chris hung up before anyone could get another word in edgewise.

With a pained smile, Viktor said, “at least we can get this shovel talk out of the way?”

Yuri heaved a sigh, sinking deeper into his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who doesn't know, "au revoir" means 'goodbye' in French :)
> 
> Next up: Yuri's slowly coming around to the idea that *maybe* Viktor and Yuuri won't leave him (maybe), dinner with Chris, and the dreaded shovel talk (the first of many).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN EXPLANATION FOR MY ABSENCE: If you're subscribed to me (if so, THANK YOU) or have just checked out any of my other works within the last two months, you'll see that I did a WLW Voltron challenge where I wrote a fic a day for the month of August. I ended up writing over 100K (go me)! Buuut...I hadn't anticipated how much it would burn me out until after it was all done, SO...I genuinely tried, y'all. I tried so hard to update my chaptered fics in September, but it just wasn't in the cards for me lol. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for being patient. I appreciate each and every one of my readers. You're the best <3

“Chris...and Phichit. You told  _ them _ of all people and thought they’d keep their mouths shut? Just how many people know about...this,” Yuri asked incredulously, tensing as he motioned between the three of them. Yuuri smiled bashfully, nervously, shrugging helplessly like he didn’t know how to respond. 

“Is there a reason you didn’t want us to tell anyone?” Viktor asked coolly, his appearance going flat and neutral the way it sometimes did when he was angry  _ (or hurt, _ Yuri’s mind supplied), and Yuri’s face fell blank. He couldn’t actually be pissed, could he? 

The question flustered Yuri. “I- Well, no. It’s not that, but I-”

“But you what?” Viktor leaned forward on his elbows smoothly, falsely casual as Yuuri frowned, his gaze volleying between them anxiously. “But you didn’t want anyone to know? But you haven’t told anyone about us? But you’re  _ embarrassed?” _

“No! Goddamn it,  _ no.” _ Yuri shouted, scowling at Viktor and his stupid, unwavering expression. When he glanced at Yuuri, Yuri could read the uncertainness in the lines of his face, in the tension in his shoulders, in the  _ tap, tap, tap _ of his fingernails on the table, and  _ fuck. _ Here Yuri was, fucking things up yet again. It was almost like he couldn’t do anything  _ but _ fuck up. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep, calming breath as he explained, “it’s not that I don’t want people to know. It’s that neither of you cleared it with me to tell the two of the biggest gossips I’ve ever known. You didn’t talk to me at all about what we’d tell people or  _ who _ we’d tell. You know-” His head whipped up, glaring fiercely at Vitya, “you  _ know _ I’m not fucking embarrassed by you two. Jesus… I just...I don’t know what the hell we even  _ are, _ and you’re just letting it spread around to quite literally everyone and I just don’t- I don’t know how to feel about it, okay?” His voice trailed off at the end, uncomfortable and awkward as his gaze shifted to the side, unable to brave whatever his lovers’ faces were doing right now. 

“Yura, what do you mean, you ‘don't know what we are?’” Yuuri’s soft voice met his ear, and Yuri’s cheeks stained red as he rolled his eyes.

“I know you guys are older and are probably fine without the whole ‘define the relationship’ talk in place, but I’m...not. I don’t-” Yuri sighed heavily as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest in some futile attempt to shield himself, to protect himself, yet again cursing his pale skin for being absolutely unable to hide the depth of his rosy mortification. He suddenly found the wood grain of his old, beat up dining room table  _ very _ fascinating.  _ God, _ he hated this conversation. “Are we actually  _ together? _ Are we boyfriends? Are we just fucking? I don’t know!” Yuri burst, expressively throwing one hand up, palm to the sky, as if to punctuate his confusion.

And then there was silence. Every second that passed by felt like a full minute, and by the time Viktor cleared his throat, Yuri kind of felt like dying. He wanted to get up and run the hell away, but where could he go? He was in his own apartment, for God’s sake, and he wasn’t about to leave Yuuri and Viktor there alone. Knowing them, they’d just wait him out. Maybe the universe would be helpful for once and just let the Earth swallow him whole. Unfortunately, after a solid fifteen seconds with no cracking in the ground in sight, Yuri gave up that hope.

He sighed, glancing up at the space between Viktor and Yuuri’s heads only to be caught by two serious pair of eyes trained on him.

“I thought it was made clear ages ago that we want what you want. You’d mentioned romance and dates and, if I remember correctly, ‘disgusting, sappy shit,’ yes?” Viktor tilted his head, his brows raised in question. (Yuri ignored the thrilled shock that ran through him at Vitya’s cursing- he almost  _ never _ cursed.) “We’ve already done those things, and I-  _ we both _ thought it was apparent that that was going to continue. Is that not what boyfriends do?”

“Yura, have you seriously been under the assumption that we weren’t, as you say, ‘actually together?’” Yuuri cut in before Yuri could say anything, and he bit his lip on the embarrassment clawing its way to settle on his cheeks.

“I don't know. Maybe,” Yuri mumbled, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, avoiding both pairs of eyes. 

The sound of chair legs against the wooden floor startled him, making him look up just in time to see Yuuri drop between his spread legs, reaching up to card his hands through the sides of Yuri's hair, tilting his face down just so. Yuri's breath left him as their eyes connected. 

Yuri was about 150% positive he would  _ never _ get used to how beautiful Yuuri was, even if he’d be hard pressed to admit that out loud. The soft light from the curtain-filtered sun painted Katsudon’s face, further warming and softening his skin, and Yuri swallowed thickly at Yuuri’s proximity. Of course Yuuri didn’t miss that, if the budding smirk on Katsudon’s face was anything to go by. 

Yuri tossed a glance toward Viktor, who was sitting back, narrow-eyed and contemplative as he watched them, watched as Yuuri brought Yuri’s gaze back to him, watched as Yuuri drew Yuri in, watched as Yuuri crushed his lips to Yuri’s in a way that knocked the breath from Yuri’s lungs.

This kiss felt charged with so much raw emotion it made Yuri's head spin. It felt as if Yuuri was trying to forcefully erode any and all of Yuri’s doubt with lips, attempting to draw out all of Yuri's insecurities only to banish them with each swipe of his tongue. Yuri’s hands came up to cling at Katsudon’s forearms desperately, squeezing those strong wrists rhythmically, keeping him in place as Yuri eagerly took everything Yuuri gave him. When the older man pulled back, eyes shining with an emotion Yuri couldn’t quite place, Yuri couldn’t help but chase after those plush lips, earning him an affectionate chuckle.

“Of  _ course _ we’re together,” Yuuri murmured fiercely, barely having moved far enough away for their lips to separate, and Yuri absently shuddered as his Katsudon’s breakfast-sweet breath puffed over his sensitive lips.

“I can’t believe you really didn’t know that already,” Viktor grumbled, spooking Yuri as he ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair from behind. He leaned down just as Yuri turned his head, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Well, with your bullheadedness, I  _ can _ believe it. A little.” At Yuri’s indignance, Viktor continued pressing little kisses down his neck. “To clarify, I want you to be our ‘boyfriend.’ Partner. Significant other. Whatever title you want, it’s yours.”

Yuuri hummed in agreement, finally pulling back to catch Yuri’s eyes in heated regard.

And just like that, Yuri felt like weight he’d piled up on his own shoulders cracked down the center, tumbling off, relieving some of the pressure he’d stupidly put upon himself. It honestly shouldn’t have even been that big of a deal, right? It shouldn’t have been such a huge issue considering he  _ had _ them both, but he couldn’t help the niggling voice in the back of his mind screaming of its importance, like having an official title was like the difference between a fling and a  _ thing, _ if you catch his drift.

Looking back, Yuri felt like a fucking idiot in the highest for even questioning it. Okay, so maybe he still felt like the add-on to their relationship, and maybe he still felt like this new title will probably be revoked if (re: when) he got to be  _ too much, _ and maybe he’s  _ still _ unsure of himself around them, but...knowing they wanted him as much as he wants them, even if just for now, made him feel as light as a feather.

“I- Okay. Yeah, uh-” Yuri finally choked out gracelessly after he’d refocused on Yuuri’s waiting face, a reminder that he’d blanked out for a second (and  _ Christ, he needed to get it together). _ Viktor slid his arms down Yuri’s chest, the words vanishing from his mind as Vitya pulled him into a hug from behind that had to be awkward with the back of the chair undoubtedly digging into his chest. Still, Yuri relaxed into the hold, unthinkingly tilting his head to the side as Vitya hummed into his neck, tickling Yuri for a moment before sinking his teeth into it. Yuri yelped, tensing as Viktor sucked at the offered stretch of skin until Yuri caved, sighed, shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. 

Just-  _ what the hell. _ Yuuri was usually the one with the marking fetish. Sure, Vitya liked when Yuri squeezed fingertip-shaped bruises into  _ his _ hips, and he liked to pull Yuri's hair back until he was gasping, riding the fine line between pain and pleasure until tears collected in the corners of his eyes, but  _ Yuuri _ was the one who wanted to make sure there was a risk of everyone later seeing the evidence of their more intimate times together.  _ Yuuri _ was the one to dig his teeth into Yuri’s soft, smooth skin, pulling back only to revel in the marks left as if he knew Yuri bruised like a fucking peach, but basked in the permission to give them anyway. And yet- here was Viktor, working a hand into Yuri’s pale locks, pulling him just a touch farther back, sucking a mark alongside his throat with a single-minded focus.

Yuri couldn't find an ounce of a fuck about the fact that literally  _ everyone _ would see this one. Mila’s future ribbing is worth it to wear this badge of (probably temporary) claim. 

A particularly hard drag of teeth had Yuri’s hips bucking up into the air of their own volition, and he’d be incredibly fucking embarrassed about that if he hadn’t hear Yuuri’s interested hum from where he was still situated between Yuri’s legs. Yuri’s eyes sluggishly slid open, melting into the cinnamon/chocolate of Yuuri’s for a moment as he panted through Viktor’s ministrations, his hands moving to dig into the fabric at his clothed knee. Yuuri watched him like he wanted to eat him alive as Yuri scooted his hips forward, an unsubtle offering he hoped Yuuri would take him up on.

It had been  _ so long. _ Being depressed was a bitch that he’d never seen coming. His blue mood and his self-imposed isolation paired with his complete lack of motivation and sexual desire for the last two weeks had apparently wreaked havoc on his already short patience, on his sensitivity. It was like he’d become even more touch starved than before, his need climbing high quickly. 

A sound of breathy desperation caught his attention, and he belatedly realized it was  _ him _ that made such a mortifying noise, but...Viktor’s fingers gripped Yuri’s hair further in response and Yuuri’s eyes flashed as he licked his lips, his hands running over Yuri’s twitching thighs before bending down to unabashedly press his mouth to the crook of Yuri’s hip, his cheek grazing Yuri’s awakening erection through his clothing.

When Viktor was finally done with leaving what was unquestionably a  _ massive _ hickey, he hiked Yuri’s shirt up and out of the way before trailing his hands down to the tie on Yuri’s sweatpants. The focus of Yuuri’s hands moved to his inner thighs, spreading them wide as Viktor’s cool hands pulled him out, swiping his cock over Yuuri’s parted lips. His eyes slammed closed lest he lose it right then and there. Little sounds were escaping Yuri as he panted. He could feel his toes already curling just a touch as the head of his weeping cock continued rubbing over Yuuri’s velvety lips. He gripped the arms of the chair as his flush burned crimson, a wildfire of heat suffusing from his ears to his chest. 

“Is this okay, Yura?” Yuuri’s low, gravelly voice filtered through Yuri’s mind as his hot breath danced over the head of his dick. “Do you want me to suck you?”

_ “Fffffffuck, _ please,” Yuri whined, daring to open his eyes as his cock twitched in Viktor’s hold. And  _ fucking hell, _ did Yuuri look delightfully filthy as it painted a tiny line of precome on his plush bottom lip. 

Yuri had just enough time for Yuuri’s lustful smirk to send heat pulsing just behind his cock before Yuuri’s mouth expertly swallowed him down, not stopping until he hit Viktor’s fist. Yuri cried out at the sudden tight heat engulfing his prick, and  _ shit. _ He brought one hand up to grip into Viktor’s perfectly sculpted arm, grounding him as the other hand found its way to the back of Yuuri’s neck. He tried so hard,  _ so fucking hard, _ not to press Yuuri further than he was already taking him, but Yuri hadn’t had _anything_ on his dick in far too long since they all started this relationship (he hadn’t even had his own hand due to the accidental free fall into depression), and being sixteen didn’t exactly grant him the best will against pleasure to begin with. He was doomed from the start.

Surprisingly, when he bucked up into Yuuri’s mouth, Viktor chose  _ that _ as the moment to let go, and instead of choking and sputtering, Yuri’s cock was suddenly surrounded by a tight, squeezing vibration brought on by Yuuri’s deep moan. Yuri gritted his teeth, his legs spreading wider as he tried desperately to pull himself back from the edge, gasping out Katsudon’s name. 

Yuuri pulled off, slow with a suction hard enough to roll Yuri’s eyes to the back of his skull and to curl his toes in full, long enough to meet Yuri’s eyes. “Yura, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

And  _ fuck, _ he so would if that wasn’t enough to trigger his orgasm, coming untouched as his cheeks set aflame in pleasure and mortification in equal measure. Yuuri’s jaw dropped in surprise, come splattering over his neck and chin. Snapping out of it after the first couple of pulses, Yuuri wrapped his lips around the head of Yuri’s cock, pressing little kitten licks to the underside of the head as he suckled gently, swallowing rhythmically as he worked Yuri through a sobbing end. Of course, being the little shit that Katsudon was, he didn’t stop until Yuri was curling into himself- or rather more like he  _ tried _ to curl forward only to be held tight against the back of the chair, Viktor still an octopus around him as he nibbled Yuri's ear- until his thighs snapped inward to clamp against Yuuri’s sides, until Yuri used the leverage he had on Katsudon’s hair to pull him away. 

Yuri slumped back into his seat, breathless as Yuuri tucked Yuri’s softening cock back into his ratty sweatpants. Yuri’s jaw dropped as Viktor knelt down beside Yuuri, turning his fiancé’s head to lick the remains of Yuri’s spend from his chin, and if Yuri hadn’t just come, he most  _ definitely _ would have at the sight. Viktor sent a lascivious wink at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this- to how fucking  _ sexy _ Viktor and Yuuri were together, to the both of them choosing  _ him _ of all people to share this with.

He swallowed thickly, breath quickening as his eyes eagerly took in the way Vitya’s hand reached down to tease Yuuri, stroking him through his pants, the way the muscles of Yuuri’s thighs shifted as he ground against Viktor, the way Yuuri keened when Viktor growled about how good Yuuri is for him, for  _ the both of them, _ Katsudon’s open mouth pressing into Viktor’s neck as his hands gripped into the material of Viktor’s shirt, the way Vitya gripped him right back as he coaxed him higher,  _ higher _ until Yuuri snapped, falling apart in his underwear like a teenager. Yuri watched raptly as a spot in the fabric darkened, a bloom of evidence of his pleasure, just to the left of his softening cock, and  _ fucking hell, _ the blissed out look on Yuuri’s face made Yuri squirm in the worst way. He  _ immediately _ wanted to wipe the knowing smirk off of Vitya’s face that was thrown his way, and-  _ oh yeah. _ He was allowed to do that.

Before he had time to overthink it, he reached forward, knocking Viktor over with exactly zero percent of the grace Yuri knew his body could hold. Viktor wheezed as his back hit the floor, his lust-blown eyes shifting to incredulity. 

“I- Shut up. I didn’t mean to- Just, shut up,” Yuri grumbled as he straddled the older man’s hips.

“Pretty sure I didn’t say anything, Kitten,” Vitya laughed, flicking Yuri's nose playfully, a giggle echoed by Katsudon beside them. 

Yuri knew he was probably being overly sensitive, but in his embarrassment, their mirth did nothing but taint his improving mood. He scowled, his gaze landing off to the side, away from his boyfriends (and even the rush of triumph that accompanied being able to say  _ that _ wasn’t enough to quell the [proba-  _ definitely _ irrational] hurt). 

He knew how to ignore laughter from petty competitors and the media that aimed to get under his skin. He knew how to shrug off the teasing laughter that came from his Deda with a playful eyeroll. He knew how to disregard Mila and Georgi’s bullshit with some choice words and a middle finger, but this? 

It should be easy to let it go with Viktor at the very least. Yuri had known him since the day he stepped onto the ice (that wasn’t even mentioning the idolization he held for Vitya before he began skating). At this point, it should be simple to laugh with him, but the alteration in the dynamic of their relationship made Yuri feel constantly off-balance, like he didn’t know how to dance around Viktor’s steps anymore, like the ease of the way they used to move around one another had completely changed and Yuri was still adjusting to the moves. Vitya hadn’t really changed much since they started this thing- he was still all dramatic flair and smug assholery and unbridled affection and sincerity that made Yuri want to melt into the floor. He was still the Viktor that liked to nitpick about what Yuri (and Yuuri, for that matter) could improve in their routines. He was still the kind of person to have no idea how to read a person’s emotional state, but still tried to show his care by steamrolling them over with his advice and suggestions and gifts. He hadn’t really changed at all.

And Yuuri? It should be fine to laugh with Yuuri too. Or at him. Yuri used to do so all the time (so what if a vast majority of that was for show), so why was it difficult now? In comparison to Vitya, Katsudon had changed...quite a lot in the time Yuri had known him, actually. He was more confident, he spoke up for himself more often, he didn’t question himself nearly as much as he used to. He still battled with anxiety and a severe self-esteem issue, sure, but it was as if Yuri kicking his ass at the GPF, added to Vitya’s whole “I won’t marry you until you win gold” thing, gave him more solid reasoning to challenge the demons in his head, like it jump started Yuuri’s ability to use logic and see how amazing he was or something. Yuri wasn’t sure. Anyway, beyond being more content in his own skin, Katsudon was still the genuine, warm, compassionate, strong man Yuri fell in love with. He was also still the dumbass Yuri had learned to relax around...before they got together.

So what was Yuri’s issue? If it wasn’t the core of  _ them _ that had changed, it had to be him, right? Unsurprising, really, considering the bullshit that Yuri’s been through recently. Pair that with the fact that he was so inexperienced, so unsure of himself in pretty much every interpersonal capacity. He fucking hated how much of a child he must look like to his older, more mature, well-rounded boyfriends. 

He just...kind of felt like one big, walking emotional bruise, like the whole peach-like sensitivity of his skin had bled into his emotional state, and any kind of joke at his expense, even the tiny, harmless ones, were like jabs at his already tender heart. But...even before that, Yuri’s typical confidence had always waned under their attention, regardless of whether he outwardly showed it or not, and to have laughter at his expense thrown his way? Ugh. 

_ God. _ He needed to get over it. He needed to let shit go. He needed to learn to take a joke again (though a vast majority of the skating population might agree that Yuri never could anyway). It wasn’t even a big deal. He  _ did _ knock Viktor over like a flailing idiot and it  _ was _ a bit funny in retrospect and-

“Yura?” 

He startled, snapping out of his reverie to a pair of concerned frowns. Yuuri was still at their side, leaning in with his hand on Yuri’s thigh. Viktor was raised up on one elbow, the soft fingers of his other hand tenderly stroking the side of Yuri’s face. (When had that happened?) Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but Yuri cut him off with a huff.

“Hah. Yeah. Anyway, I was going to repay the favor,” Yuri tried to smirk lasciviously, though he hoped it only  _ felt _ a bit shaky at the edges. 

The corners of Viktor’s perfect mouth dipped as he shook his head. “I’m fine for now. Just...are you okay? You looked troubled for a moment there.”

“I’m fine.” Yuri said, pursing his lips in an attempt to mask the sting of rejection.

“Yura,” Katsudon’s soft voice cut in, and when Yuri turned his way, his cinnamon-chocolate eyes bored into his. “Don't hide from us. Please.”

Yuri clenched his jaw, heaving a great sigh. How in the hell could he possibly say no to that? Abruptly, Yuri felt as young as his sixteen years afforded him. He sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he explained himself.

“It’s not even a big deal,” Yuri grumbled, moving to stand up. His knees were starting to feel the strain, and he bet Viktor’s body wasn’t feeling too good either what with his advanced age and all. 

“Was it because Vitya teased you, or because we were laughing?” Yuuri asked bluntly, and Yuri winced. In their time apart, Yuri had somehow forgotten about Katsudon’s incredible (and inconvenient) intuition.

“Wait, what? Is that what that look was about?” Viktor asked skeptically. Evidently Yuri’s reddening cheeks were as good as an answer because Vitya raised a brow, sighing, a trace of weariness on his breath. “What happened to the brat who would laugh with me or made rude gestures when I teased him, huh? You have to know by now that I never want to hurt you.”

Yuri bit his lip as Yuuri agreed, pissed off at himself for bringing the mood down  _ again. _ Enough. He'd had enough. 

“I'm sorry,” Yuri frowned. “I-I know you wouldn't. Either of you. I've just had a lot on my mind lately and I'm being ridiculous because of it.” He ignored the pensive narrowing of Yuuri’s eyes at that. “I promise, I'll…try to be better,” he petered off into a mumble. He absently played with the ends of a lock of hair to distract himself from his own discomfort. 

He startled (again) when Viktor clapped, a broad grin spread on his face. He’d also somehow forgotten how easily Vitya could pull an emotional 180 on him. “Well, since that’s taken care of, let’s figure out when we’re having dinner with Chris!”

Yuri’is eyes flicked to Katsudon, who failed rather spectacularly at biting back his laughter in the face of Yuri’s sudden panic. 

\---

Never in his life did Yuri  _ ever _ want to admit that Christophe Giacometti intimidated him, but...fuck it. He was. Well, he never really was before, but that was  _ before. _ Before Vitya and Katsudon became his actual world, and before making an actually decent impression on Chris became important. He was one of Viktor’s oldest friends, Vitya’s longest held friendship outside of Team Russia, and the only man in Vitya’s life, besides Katsudon, whose opinion  _ really _ mattered.

Chris had always been a teasing little shit, always liked to poke fun at “cute, little Yuri Plisetsky” for his temper and for his  _ ever _ so sunny disposition. He liked to fluster the shit out of Yuri, talking about how handsome he would be “when he grew into an adult body.” He liked to call out when Yuri’s face was rosy in the face of Viktor or Yuuri, making fun of “Yuri’s adorable, little crushes” and his “hopeless pining.” Well, fuck you too, Chris. Look who’s laughing now.

Except now Chris seemed to think his relationship was just about the most amusing shit he'd ever heard in his life. He was sitting across from Viktor, flanked by Yuri and Yuuri, his eyes shining with mirth and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his cheek in his hand as his big, doey green eyes observed the way Yuri moved with the other two, or rather...the way he stiffly sat with Viktor’s hand in his own tight grasp, Chris’s eyes dancing over his face amusedly, eyeing the wooden frown on Yuri's face. 

“Little Yurio seems so tense,” Chris laughed, grinning at Viktor before sending some sort of conciliatory wink to Yuuri. Yuri pursed his lips when Chris redirected his attention back to him. “I'm not sure I've ever seen you  _ this _ nervous before. Relax. We're all friends here.”

Immediately, Yuri was on guard. Never in the time they've known each other have they called the other his ‘friend.’ The way Chris maintained eye contact with Yuri while he mischievously smirked over his wine glass wasn't exactly comforting either. 

Yuri refused to let it get to him. He was  _ Yuri fucking Plisetsky _ for God’s sake. He was the master of staring down a challenge and making it his bitch. Why in the hell was this shaking him so badly? It was just Chris, notoriously outrageous flirt, king of lewd, insufferable tease, ridiculous human in general, and... _ Viktor’s best friend. _ One of the only people Viktor truly opened up to. Someone who had gotten much closer to Katsudon since the engagement announcement. Viktor’s future best man. The man who was much more shrewd in his judgment than one would initially expect, and though Yuri had known him for years as well, Yuri's pretty positive Chris doesn't have the best opinion of him. 

“So, Yurio, tell me. How long have you harbored feelings for my platonic life partner?” Chris asked, batting his eyes in what Yuri assumed was some show of false innocence. 

“A while,” was the answer Yuri gave, ignoring that damned nickname for once instead of snapping back, and Viktor gently squeezed his hand, a small smile on his face as he met Yuri's eyes.

“Mmm, Yura’s grandfather said he's had a crush on me since he was four,” Viktor beamed. Yuuri tried to hide a matching smile behind his hand, but Yuri could see the crinkling at the corners of his eyes, the bunched up cheeks over the sides of his self-made shield. 

Betrayed, Yuri scowled. “Shut up. It's not like I even knew you then. I just thought you were pretty,” he admitted, vehemently ignoring the rush of heat flooding his face  _ and _ the way Chris’s eyes were burning holes into the side of his face. 

“Don’t you still think he's pretty?” Yuuri asked innocently before taking a drink of his water. Yuri glared back.

“Of course I still think he’s pretty. I’m pretty sure we all have working eyes,” Yuri said, attempting something like nonchalance as he took another drink. He raised an eyebrow at the gooey smile Viktor gifted him.

“You… I think this might be the first time you’ve complimented my looks.”

“I figured it was common knowledge,” Yuri mumbled. “If- I mean, I can, uh, remind you sometimes if you’d like.” 

“Such a charmer,” Chris’s silky voice cut in, and as Yuri’s eyes pulled from Viktor’s lopsided grin, he was thankful that his only real reaction was to grip Vitya’s hand a bit tighter. 

“...Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” He paused for a moment when the waitress brought out their entrées. “So, I know you’re probably expecting this...what do the Americans call it? A shovel talk? But no. I trust that Viktor and Yuuri know what they're doing. I just hope that  _ you _ know what you’re doing as well.”

The intensity of Chris’s gaze made Yuri want to squirm. Did he know what he was doing? Yes and no. He’d like to say more yes than no, but he couldn’t say for sure. He knew what he wanted. He knew how his ideal future with his boyfriends would turn out. He knew he would try his best to fight for them (these past two weeks notwithstanding). He knew he would never want to drive a wedge between them or be the result of the dissolution of their relationship. He knew he wanted a forever kind of deal if he could manage it, and if not...well, he knew he would want Yuuri and Viktor to stay together, to contentedly continue on without him, living the life they’d planned on having before Yuri stepped into the equation. 

After a few tense few seconds, his eyes flicked to Yuuri’s hesitant eyes, to Viktor's nervous smile, then to Chris’s unchanging severity. 

“I’d like to say I do, yeah. I just want to be happy. I just want to make  _ them _ happy. Nothing more, nothing less.” Yuri held Chris’s eyes until his serious expression softened.

“And that is all I could want for my best friends. I truly wish you the best,” Chris dimpled at the table at large before his smile went sly, a contradiction to his innocent tone. “So, what’s it like to fuck two men at once? Unfortunately, it is not something I’ve yet to have crossed off my list.”

Yuri almost spat out his water in surprise as his boyfriends sighed at their friend, Yuuri going as far as to hide his face in both hands. Viktor was caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement as he told Yuri that he didn’t have to answer. Chris really had very little to no concept of boundaries, but...seeing the tinge of embarrassment on  _ both _ of his boyfriends’ faces was too good to pass up.

“Mind-blowing,” Yuri smirked, ignoring the heat flooding his cheeks as he pulled the most poetic shit he could muster from the back of his mind. “It’s hard to describe. Almost like I can’t breathe anything but the air they give me. Like I’m drowning in nothing but Viktor and Yuuri, and I never want to come back up. Like I lose all sense of anything but unbridled pleasure. Like far too much and not nearly enough all at once. Like I’m floating, and the only tether to sanity is their hands and mouths.” He trailed off with his own innocent smile and a shrug, focusing on his dinner in lieu of looking at the gaping expressions aimed at him.

“I didn’t know you had such a pretty, little mouth on you,” Chris leered at Yuri for a moment before crying out, glaring at Viktor’s benign face.  _ “Mon Dieu, _ what was that for?”

“Don't flirt with our boyfriend.” Viktor responded easily, tilting his head. “I know most of it is playful, but we’re still rather new and...to be honest, I just didn’t like it. I’m sorry I kicked you.”

“Also, don’t you have a boyfriend?” Yuuri questioned, his face sour.

“Have I not explained that we are polyamorous as well? We’re more...open than a three-way relationship like yours, but,” Chris shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not the point. I wanted to talk to catch up with you all, see how you are doing with this new development,” he shot a wink to Yuri, “but, I am sorry as well. Please forgive me.”

After that, the tension slowly bled out as they talked about skating practice, the general gossip Vitya and Chris so loved to share, Chris’s boyfriend, some of the highlights of Yuri, Yuuri and Viktor’s budding relationship (thankfully without the details about his sick grandfather and his bout of depression). They talked about trivial things like the weather and their food and the movies they couldn’t wait to see (Yuuri admitted he was probably going to take a break from the musicals for a bit because apparently  _ La La Land _ fucked him up that badly) and new music they’d recently listened to. By the end of the night, Chris had made Yuri promise to keep in contact with him more (“I am friends with both of your boyfriends. I would like to be friends with you too,” he’d admitted easily, like it didn’t make Yuri’s eyebrows aim for his hairline.)

Yuri had to tamp down the hysterical smile on his face the whole conversation, forcing himself not to focus on Viktor's possessive hand in his, and his feet intertwined with Yuuri’s under the table.

\---

After parting with Chris, instead of calling for a cab like he’d originally planned to do, Yuri held fast to both of his boyfriends’ hands as they walked the brisk six blocks to Vitya and Katsudon’s apartment.

“That wasn’t so bad, yeah?” Viktor asked, and Yuri hummed in agreement. 

“I’m well aware that it’s only going to get worse though.”

“Speaking of which, Mari’s birthday is coming up next month, and I think it would be nice for us to visit.” Yuuri suggested, his eyes steadfastly forward as Yuri side-eyed him. 

“Us as in you and Viktor, or…?”

Yuuri stopped short, impatience setting in his brow as he spun Yuri back to face him, dragging Viktor along for the ride. “All of us, Yura. Come on. One, we established that we a-are  _ ‘boyfriends’ _ now,” and wasn’t that flush just interesting? “Two, my family loves you, and you know Yuuko misses you too. They’ll be sad if you don’t come with us. Three,” he stepped further into Yuri’s space, grazing a feather-light brush of lips over Yuri’s, “you have a slew of ‘shovel talks’ to work your way through, and what easier way than to get them all done in one week?” 

Yuri’s jaw dropped as Yuuri pulled away with a shit-eating grin, side-stepping around Yuri to walk in the direction of his and Viktor’s apartment with a spring in his step. Yuri was pretty sure he could hear Yuuri whistling cheerfully as he went, and just... _ what a dick. _

“Has he always been an ass?” Yuri’s brow furrowed.

Viktor nodded sagely. “Yuuri has the patience of a saint, but when it breaks down, he can be a bit of a sass master. A sasster, if you will.”

Yuri shot his elder boyfriend a horrified look. “You did not just throw a dad joke at me.”

“Well, I’m not a dad, so no. No dad jokes here.” 

“I just- Who  _ are _ you?” Yuri snorted as he followed Yuuri. Viktor just beamed cheesily in response.

He reveled in being able to hold Viktor’s-  _ his boyfriend’s- _ hand without having to worry about what it meant or if it was too much or if he should back off or- Just...it was nice. Impulsively, he pulled Vitya’s gloved hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand, closing his eyes as he nuzzled into the knuckles for a moment before dropping their entwined hands back between them. In his determination to  _ not _ look at Vitya after that embarrassing display of affection, he was caught off-guard as Viktor spun him around (and for fuck’s sake, what was with these two tonight?). 

Viktor looked down at Yuri, a syrupy smile spread over his face as the full force of his own affection shone from his eyes. Slowly, achingly slowly, Vitya brought their lips together in a lazy, honey-sweet kiss.

“God, Yura, you have no idea,” Viktor whispered into the hush between them.

“I have no idea about what?” Yuri breathed back, his heart racing as he dragged his nose over Vitya’s.

“I-”

“You two! Quit making out on the sidewalk and get in here. It’s cold out!” Yuuri called out from the doorway of their apartment building, and Viktor pulled back with an apologetic little smile.

“I’ll tell you some other time. Now, let’s go warm Yuuri up. I think he misses us,” he winked at Yuri, and Yuri  _ tsked _ at the notion that he would miss them after less than five minutes apart.

Still, with an impish smile and a racing heart, he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with the end of the chapter, but if I keep working on it, I might never get this chapter out. I personally can't see Chris as the hardass shovel talk kind of guy, but just wait. Poor Yura is going to have to deal with Mari, Yuuko and Minako eventually O:)
> 
> Next up: Yuri learns to cope with his depression, and a trip to Japan does wonders for his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll more than likely be using Japanese romanji and Russian here and there throughout the story, so if you see anything wrong, please let me know! xx
> 
> baka - fool  
> kuso - fuck  
> Блядь - fuck  
> Пожалуйста - please  
> ponchiki - Russian version of pączki, which are similar to donuts  
> anko - Japanese red bean paste  
> neko-chan - kitten  
> Dedushka - grandfather/grandpa


End file.
